There's No Place Like Home
by StarStepper
Summary: Alex Rider is sick of people dying because of him, so he does the only thing he can-he becomes someone else. 19 year old Matthew Smith passes Selection and joins the SAS, but not everyone seems to appreciate his company...at first. Maybe these people he swore he wouldn't get close to will become the family he needs...unless his enemies are closer than he thinks. K-Unit and OCs!
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"Sabina," Alex called from downstairs. "Where's your maths homework? I can't figure out number six."

Sabina sighed, a small smile gracing her lips. "In my bag. I'll bring it down in a moment."

Sabina folded the last of her t-shirts and tucked them in her drawer, glancing out the window. The April sun was bright in California, bathing everything in a light, golden hue. The green stretched outside her bedroom window, broken only by the neighbor's house. Their garden in the backyard had all kinds of colors; her mother and she had made it their project when they first purchased the house.

She grabbed her bag and her purse, jogging down the stairs to where Alex was on the couch, scribbling furiously, intense concentration cloaking his face. To anyone else, he would look like a normal boy, doing normal schoolwork, with normal problems.

Sabina knew.

She could see the dark bags under his eyes, even when he tried to convince her he was fine. She could see the distinct worry lines in his forehead and around his eyes, the lines other people often mistook as laugh lines. The irony sometimes made her smile wryly.

Nevertheless, he was doing much better. She remembered the hollow shell he'd been when her father had first brought him home after Egypt. He'd been…lifeless, dark. He remembered a time when he'd been smiling, content, and the boy in front of her had been his…exact opposite.

But she'd done everything she could. She'd forced him to come to clubs with her afterschool, until he finally decided to join the football—_soccer_, she mentally corrected herself—team. He'd joined late, though, and wouldn't be able to participate until next season—his _sophomore_ year. She was still trying to perfect all the American terms.

Her parents had been wonderful, as well. They'd included him in every family outing they'd had, even when he'd been reluctant. They'd treated him as their own, giving him all the love and affection his parents had never been around to give. She hadn't known Ian, but he seemed to be absent a lot. And Jack…

She blinked, wishing the memory away. Jack had been good to him. What happened to her…

She shook her head, fishing out her maths—no, just math—homework and let it flutter down in front of him. "Here you are, slacker."

He looked up at her, his brown eyes so much older than they should be, and gave her a small smile. "Thanks, Sab."

She ruffled his hair affectionately. "I'm going to meet Melissa and Hanna at the strip mall. You know you're welcome to come?"

But he was already absorbed in his homework. "It's all right, thanks. I've got a couple papers due this week." After a moment, he said, "You still remember those self-defense techniques I taught you? And you've got your phone?"

Sabina sighed. She knew he was just looking out for her, but sometimes, she confused him with her mother. "Yes, and yes." She knelt by the couch, taking his hand, staring into his eyes. "Alex. You're safe. You're safe here, I'm safe here, Mum and Dad are safe here. I promise you, I'm going to be home, safe and sound, in just a few hours, just like I have been every other time before now." She gave him a smile, kissing his cheek and standing. "When I'm back, we can see what's on the tellie, yeah?"

He blinked and looked away, pain clouding his eyes for a short moment, before he returned the smile, looking tired. "Sure. Just…be careful, yeah?"

"I will," Sabina promised. "I'll be home in a few hours. Mum and Dad should be at dinner all night, so you'll be by yourself…call me if you need _anything_, okay?"

He sometimes had bad days. Days where he'd lapse into a flashback, forget where he was, who he was with. He'd see people from…his missions, she supposed, and…sometimes it would get bad. He needed someone to pull him out of them. He sometimes had a few seconds to feel an episode coming on. She knew he'd call her if he needed to, and she could rush home and help him.

It was hard, but she regretted none of it.

She left the house with one last backwards smile, closing the door to one last sight of Alex's small, worried smile.

If she'd known then it would be the last time she ever saw him, she would've stayed. In a heartbeat.

But she didn't.

She didn't know, that ten minutes after leaving her house, closing the door on her adopted younger brother, one of his old enemies would be waiting for her.

She didn't know that he would be positioned across the street, on top of a six-story building, watching her through his sophisticated scope, keeping track of her every movement.

She didn't know that he loaded his sniper rifle when she stopped at the stoplight, texting Melissa, telling her she was five minutes away.

She didn't know when he took aim.

And she definitely didn't know when the bullet pierced her skull, right between her eyes.

She felt nothing.

She didn't even have time to regret promising Alex that she'd come home, because she never did.

…

The moment the doorbell rang, my stomach plummeted.

It had been an hour since Sabina had left. It wouldn't be her. She was safe at the mall, with her friends. Edward and Liz were still at dinner. They wouldn't be home until late.

The Macbeth essay, half done, lay forgotten as the doorbell rang again.

_Stupid_, I thought, shaking my head. For heaven's sake, it was probably the postman, or a neighbor, or a solicitor. Not every visitor had to have a sinister intention.

As I took silent steps towards the door, I tried to convince myself of these things. Stopping at the dresser, I opened the middle drawer, popped the false bottom, and slipped the silver Glock 32 into my waistband.

Taking a deep breath, dropping my stance a bit so I was ready for a fight, I opened the door.

Two men in uniform stood there.

I knew the looks on their faces.

_"…__a car accident…called the ambulance…intensive care…nothing anyone could do…so sorry."_

The words of the officers that relayed my uncle's death to…to—to Ja—

_Stop_.

The words rang in my ears even as the officers started speaking.

"Is this the home of Sabina Pleasure?"

My gut _dropped_.

"I'm going to level with you," I said, hating how stoic my voice was, hating that my face was expressionless. "I knew it was bad news when I saw you. Just…tell me what happened. I'm her adopted brother, Alex. Edward and Liz aren't home. Just…please."

The officers weren't surprised. They looked sorrowful. Tired.

I knew the feeling well.

"Can we come in?" The other officer said, looking uncomfortable.

"Please," I said, my heart beating a thousand miles a minute.

Once they were seated, I sat as well, watching, waiting.

I knew.

"From what we can gather—"

I knew from the moment the doorbell rang.

"—sniped from a short distance—"

No. That's wrong. I knew from the moment I stepped foot into this house.

"—shot in the head—"

I knew it was too good to be true. I knew it wouldn't last.

"—trying to cross the street. I'm so sorry for your loss, Alex."

"Crossing the street," I repeated numbly, the loss of Sabina—beautiful, wonderful, kind Sabina—still an illusion for now. Still not real. Still not possible. "Sniped. Crossing the street."

A coincidence.

Someone, an enemy of mine, surely, but not SCO—no. Not them. They were dead. I'd seen to it.

It was a coincidence.

"Yes," the officer said, the two of them glancing at each other with identical looks of sympathy and concern.

"What are your leads?" I asked, emotions tucked away in a small box in the corner of my mind, sealed with padlock after padlock. "Age, race, ethnicity. Anything. Prints from the roof. Has forensics—"

"Actually," the other officer stopped me, looking reluctantly impressed, "the guy turned himself in."

I blinked. "He what?"

"Walked into the precinct with his weapon in a bag, told us the crime scene, where he took the shot, everything. After that, he didn't say much, but he told us to give a message to the family."

No.

A coincidence.

It's not—it _can't_—

"What was the message?" I asked, a slight tremor disrupting my otherwise emotionless voice.

"Well," one of them said, shifting in his seat. "We should probably wait for your adoptive parents to get back. Are you a minor?"

"Yes," I said impatiently. "But you need to tell me that message. I…please. Sabina is my…was…my…just, please."

_Was_. _Was, just like Mum was, Dad was, Ian was, Yassen was, Ja—_

_STOP_.

The officers looked at each other and sighed. "Well, I suppose you'll hear it eventually," he said, fishing a piece of paper out of his pocket and handing it to me. "It's all there."

Fingers trembling slightly, I unfolded the crinkled stationary.

_To the family of Sabina Pleasure—_

_Such a waste of a bright young life. A true shame. Though, I suppose we all know who the real killer is, and it isn't me. I may have pulled the trigger, but who handed me the gun?_

_Poor Sabina. We learned from our mistakes—went for the head instead of the heart. A couple inches of concrete couldn't save her, could it?_

_We never forgive. We never forget._

…

The officers stayed.

I called Edward and Liz. I couldn't bear telling them over the phone, so when they got home, I simply gestured to the officers and sat, head hanging low, as the same story filled my ears.

Liz collapsed.

Edward sobbed.

The officers gave their final condolences, handing them the handwritten note I'd already memorized, and through their tears, they read, and they understood.

I kept my head down, looking at the carpet, as they looked at me.

"Alex…" Edward's voice was a myriad of emotions.

However thickly disguised it was by the grief and anguish and sorrow and guilt, and even sympathy, there was an undeniable serving of blame.

The officers left with the promise to return for a proper debriefing when the family had put their affairs in order, as well as a card to the police department coroner's office. Liz stayed on the floor, Edward kneeling beside her, taking in their loss, trying to understand the tragedy, the impossibility.

I took a moment to look at them, the people who'd cared for me over these past few months like I was their own, the people I'd unwillingly come to think of as family. I looked at the sofa where Sabina and I had caught up on all of her favorite American shows. I looked at her things strewn around—a book here, a jacket there, and imagined the hell that Liz or Edward would go through when they picked them up again.

I looked at the photo on the mantle. Saint Patrick's Day—all of us were in something green, standing amid the bustling festival hosted by the neighborhood. Sabina had her head resting on my shoulder, her arm around my waist, her other arm around Liz. Liz, in turn, leaned into Edward. Sabina smiled gently at the camera, her eyes alight.

It was the first time since _Ja—_her that I'd been truly happy, and it showed in my smile.

"Alex," Liz said, her voice dead. Her makeup streaked face turned on me, eyes full of…not hatred, not blame, but…something close. "Is this…was this…"

A few seconds of silence, and then I stood.

"I'll be out by morning."

They didn't stop me.

When morning came, I was gone, as was the Saint Patrick's Day picture from the mantle.

…

**Three Days Later**

Edward Pleasure straightened his tie in the mirror, eyes wide, bloodshot, with dark half-moons accentuating his pale, sunken face.

Today was the day of the funeral.

His sweet Sabina—his sweet, beautiful little girl—gone.

It would be closed casket. Her head had been nearly blown off.

His wife was in the shower, where she'd been for forty-five minutes. He knew she was probably sobbing again, but he also knew that his going to her would only make it worse.

Alex had been gone the morning after. In fact, everything he'd owned when he'd come here had been gone—like he was never there.

On some level, he felt guilty. He knew it wasn't Alex's fault. He knew that. He was only a boy, after all. This was the fault of a sadistic man with ties to Alex's past, but…he hadn't meant for this to happen.

But as he thought of his daughter's mangled body, he couldn't help the anger the simmered underneath the numbness.

A knock on the door shook him, and he blinked furiously, his sallow reflection staring glumly back at him. He slunk to the door, opening it, expecting anyone but the person he saw.

"Mrs. Jones?" He asked, his voice flat.

She gave him a small, flat smile of her own. "Hello, Mr. Pleasure. I'm so sorry about Sabina—you and your wife have my complete condolences. I'm sorry for popping by so suddenly, but I'd like to speak with Alex, if he's…up to it."

"Alex left," he said, turning away from her, leaving the door open. She stepped in, closing it behind her. "The morning after it happened, he and all his things were gone. As well as a picture from the mantle, with all of us." He'd noticed. A small part of him had been indignant, the irrational, angry part of him, desperately searching for someone to blame.

The better part of him had been relieved.

She blinked, which, Edward thought wryly, was probably the most surprised she'd ever looked. "I see. Did he give any indication as to where he was going?"

"No," he sighed, sitting in the armchair. "If you don't mind, Mrs. Jones, the funeral is today. I…my wife and I have…a few more pressing matters."

Looking properly chastised, which Edward was sure was all part of her act, she nodded. "Of course. I'll leave you. I'm sorry for surprising you, and…I truly am sorry about your daughter, Mr. Pleasure."

He simply nodded.

Mrs. Jones let herself out.

Edward cried.

…

**Six Months Later**

"Attention!" The Sargent yelled, voice booming over the expanse of grass used for training at the Brecon Beacons, a covert SAS camp in Wales. The soldiers stood, mud caking their boots as they stared straight ahead, backs straight as pins.

After a few seconds, the Sargent shouted, "At ease, men." As one, the soldiers assumed their at ease positions. "I'd like to introduce you to the only three rookies to pass Selection this year—I'll be assigning them units later, so pay attention."

The three new SAS members stood at attention, facing their peers.

"Travis Oliver."

Travis Oliver was twenty-six years old. He had brown hair and the green, tell-tale eyes of a troublemaker. He was tall and thin, but he had the muscle required to pass Selection. He'd graduated from Cambridge with degrees in French, Spanish, and Japanese, and was going to be a unit's new communications specialist. He had two sisters, a niece, and two supportive parents.

"James Kimberly."

James Kimberly was a stout man with red hair and pale skin, thirty-two years old, and was a widower. He'd lost his wife six years ago and had never been able to settle back down, so he'd joined the SAS. He was a stoic, polite, professional man, who'd completed Med School just before his wife had passed. He was going to be another unit's new medic.

"Matthew Smith."

Matthew Smith was a young man with black hair and brown eyes. He was nineteen years old. He had forgone college in favor of physical training for Selection, but had passed his GCSEs. He was sharp, intelligent, athletic, lithe, and very quiet. He was small for his age, but quick on his feet, fluent in six languages, and observant beyond his years. He also had the shooting skills of a veteran three times his age. He had no family to speak of. He was going to be a unit's new sharpshooter and weapons expert.

"Congratulations, Oliver, Kimberly, Smith," the Sargent grinned, staring at his new recruits, "and welcome to Hell."

**A/N: Hey guys! I decided to try out some Alex Rider fanfiction for a change. This is just the prologue; I have the first chapter and certain scenes throughout the story written, but it's still definitely a work in progress. This has been sitting on my laptop for a while, so I just wanted to publish it and see if anyone was interested in me continuing the story! I don't know how long it'll be, and it'll definitely have really infrequent updates, since right now I'm focusing on my Avengers / Spiderman stories more. But let me know what you think! If I should continue, if there's anything specific you want to see, that kind of thing. K-Unit does come in later, along with a few of my own original SAS characters! Just let me know :) hope you liked it! Please follow / drop a review if you want to!**


	2. Chapter 1

My first official day in Brecon Beacons was—dare I say it—relaxing.

I hadn't been assigned a unit yet, so the Sargent gave me the day off, told me to familiarize myself with the camp, but there was no need. I remembered most of the layout from my ten days in training before Stormbreaker. My things were in my duffle, stored securely in the Selection Candidate Barracks until further notice.

I was sitting on the edge of the spacious lake, staring out over the water, the setting sun reflecting over the rippling surface.

After I'd fled the Pleasures', I'd disappeared. I wouldn't allow MI6 to find me—I wouldn't survive if they threw me back into missions like I'd done before. I'd used some old contacts from my MI6 days—Smithers included—and had some documents forged to make me eligible for SAS service. They forged a completely new birth certificate, a GCSEs certificate, crafted recommendation letters, even set up fake Facebook accounts for a tragically deceased sister and her husband, as well as inventing new parents. I was now nineteen-year-old Matthew Smith.

I sighed, running a hand through my dyed hair. I'd given it serious thought. I could settle down, get a normal job in some foreign country, and the risk of MI6 finding me would have been much, much lower. Hell, even my enemies would have a harder time finding me. I could've waited tables, sold train tickets, anything.

But I realized I would've gone crazy. As much as I hated MI6, hated the things I'd seen and done for them, what I'd become for them, the…adrenaline, the rush of danger…I'd become a junkie. Like someone who took a hit of narcotics and couldn't stop running back. I'd drive myself mad, doing some mundane task day after day after day.

That's what I told myself, anyhow.

The guilt still ate at me. MI6 had destroyed me. Destroyed my family, every single one of them. However, when I thought of the missions…

I'd saved millions of people.

And I felt guilty for running, when millions more may die because I wasn't there.

I shook my head, angry. I was being egotistical. I couldn't save everyone, no matter who I was. Sixteen-year-old superspy be damned, I couldn't save everyone.

So, my compromise was the SAS. I'd still be…helping. Saving people.

I could save Sabina. I couldn't save my parents, or Ian, or Yassen, or even Ash, or Ja-

Or her. And...I wanted to be able to save people.

And…my memories with K-Unit were bitter, but…MI6 had left me to rot so many times. And in the short time I'd been with the SAS, I'd seen teamwork, and trust, and camaraderie. I'd seen brotherhood, and friendship.

And no matter how many people had died in my life, I was only human. I wanted a family. But I knew it couldn't last. After all, everything I'd done to get into this camp was a lie.

But no matter what I'd seen, what I'd done, I was sixteen. I was damaged. And I wanted someone, anyone, to rely on.

So, I became Matthew Smith. I'd scripted the character. He was a wallflower. He preferred to watch, but he had a sense of humor. He was intelligent, but not cocky. And he didn't take anything lying down.

I'd been selfish and based him off of myself. I couldn't…let myself go, I guess. I needed to preserve who I was, if only for what was left of my sanity.

"Matthew, right?" A voice said behind me. It hadn't surprised me, and he noticed. I turned, standing, coming face to face with Travis. He was much taller than me, but he had an easy smile and air of mischief.

"That's me," I said, sticking my hand out. "Travis, right? Communications."

"Yeah," he said, giving me a firm handshake. "Shit, man, you are just a kid."

I shrugged. "I guess I'm young. Wasn't cut out for uni."

"Well, congratulations on passing Selection," he said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Sargent wants to see you; Kimberly—I guess Hawk, now—and I already have units. I'm Owl now, S-Unit."

"Thanks," I said, leaving him and heading towards the Sargent's office. "And congratulations."

I'd been nervous that the Sargent would recognize me, but I'd changed a good bit since my time here, and I'd dyed my hair black. Hopefully, it would be enough.

I knocked on his door, entering at the brusque reply from the other side. I walked in, taking in the room in an instant. Three men were standing off to the side in relaxed positions, curious looks on their faces. The Sargent was seated behind his desk, arms crossed over his chest.

"At ease!"

I snapped into position, feet spread, shoulders relaxed, hands clasped behind my back.

"L-Unit, this is your new sharpshooter and weapons consult, Matthew Smith." The Sargent looked at me, eyes thoughtful. "Normally he'd be too young to be sharpshooter, but his skills and knowledge are impressive. Matthew, your new name is Jaguar, understand?"

I nodded once, a small smile gracing my features. Jaguar. I liked it. I felt like…it suited both me and Matthew.

"This is your new unit, L-Unit. Men, introduce yourselves."

"I'm the unit leader, Lion," the first man said, and boy, did he look it. He stood at least half a foot taller than me, probably more, with broad shoulders and a muscular frame. His hair was cut short and his eyes were sharp and clever, but I could tell he wasn't a stick in the mud. He looked to be in his mid to late twenties. We shook hands; he had a strong grip.

"Communications specialist, Tiger," the next man said. He was short. Not shorter than me, but he probably only had a few inches on me. He wasn't nearly as muscular as Lion, but he was lithe and lean, probably agile and quick, like me. Though he was communications, you could tell he didn't speak much. He was a little younger than Lion, probably closer to mid-twenties. He looked intelligent as well. I'd have to be careful; they all seemed fairly observant.

"I'm Bear, I'm the medic," the remaining man said with a grin. When I pictured the code-name "Bear," I pictured some huge, hulking man with a scowl and an aggressive attitude, but this man was the _exact_ opposite. Already he was bouncing on his toes, full of energy and excitement, grinning like a maniac. He looked closest to me in age—early twenties, no older than twenty-four, if that. He didn't look particularly book smart, but I knew better than anyone that appearances could be deceiving. He must've been intelligent, to be a medic.

"I guess I'm Jaguar," I said, giving them a loose smile and relaxing my posture, trying to make myself look non-threatening. "Sharpshooter, weapons expert."

"So, how old are you, exactly?" Tiger asked, his expression curious, stance agitated.

"Nineteen," I said, voice emotionless.

"Sergeant, you gave us the baby," Lion complained, but I could tell, at least from him, that it was good-natured. Tiger, not so much.

He growled, much like a tiger might, and said, "Sharpshooter? He's going to shoot his damn eye out."

Bear seemed to be a bit apprehensive, obviously used to Tiger's stand-offish behavior. Lion, being leader, tried to smooth things over, settling a hand on the man's shoulder. "Tiger, he's new. You haven't seen him in action yet. Let's be optimistic, yeah?"

Tiger folded his arms.

I turned to the Sergeant. Matthew Smith—and consequently Alex Rider—didn't take anything lying down. "I'd like to thank you, sir," I said, looking him dead in the eye, showing him that I was serious.

The Sargent blinked, seemingly surprised, and eyed me suspiciously. "For what, Jaguar?"

I allowed the tiniest, _tiniest_ smirk to come over my features as I eyed my new unit mates. "For not codenaming me 'Dorothy.'"

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Bear _collapsed_ in laughter.

"Lions, Tigers, and Bears," he breathed, almost choking. "Oh, God, we never even realized it, mates. We're a regular Oz reunion, aren't we?"

Lion had an amused look on his face, but he wasn't quite laughing. I could tell Tiger was going to be the one to win over, because he was _less_ than amused. In fact, he looked downright _unimpressed_.

The Sargent, who was trying very hard to remain expressionless had the smallest smile on his lips. "All of you, get out of my office. You're raising my blood pressure."

We filed out, Lion supporting a still-cackling Bear, and Lion said, "Do you want to grab your things? I reckon they're still in the Selection barracks."

"Yeah, I'll get them," I said, turning. "Where's the L-Unit cabin?"

"Don't worry, I'll send Bear to meet you at the mess when he's calmed down some," Lion replied, shoving his two unit mates ahead of him. "We'll do proper introductions tonight, yeah, kid?"

For the time being, I ignored being called "kid" and nodded, a tendril of nervousness worming its way through my stoicism at the thought of really getting to know my unit.

…

"—going to get someone killed," Tiger's voice filtered through the thin door as I stopped abruptly, heavy duffle slung over my shoulder as Bear and I stood there. "He's an inexperienced kid. He needs to be put in a new unit. He's nowhere near ready for active duty."

"C'mon, give him a shot," Lion said, sounding a bit exasperated. "Yeah, he's new, but the Sargent wouldn't have put him with us if he wasn't skilled. We'll evaluate him tomorrow, alright?"

Bear gave me a sympathetic look and shoved the door open. "We're back!"

Tiger and Lion both looked at us, and Tiger looked quickly away, reading a book in his bed, the top bunk on the right. The title, I noticed, was in Russian. As expected of a communications expert, I supposed.

"Jaguar, you can have bottom bunk on the left," Lion said with a smile. "It's the only one unoccupied."

"Thanks." I set my bag down, kicking it under the bed, and sat down to peel off my mud caked books. Weather in Wales truly was a nightmare.

"So, tell us about yourself," Bear said, sitting cross-legged on his bunk. He was underneath Tiger. Lion chose to sit in one of the chairs in the room, so he could see me.

I gave a slight chuckle, running a hand through my hair to get it out of my eyes. I knew it wasn't regulation, but no one had said anything so far, so I hadn't cut it—another part of my old self I wanted to keep. "Not much to tell, really," I said, leaning against the wall. "What do you want to know?"

"What made you want to join the SAS?" Lion asked.

Oh. A tough question. "Well, I didn't have a lot of options, and I wanted to serve my country in some way. I wasn't cut out for regular military, so SAS seemed like my best option." Not a lie, exactly.

"What's your family like?" Bear asked, leaning forwards expectantly. "Got a girlfriend back home?"

"No girlfriend," I said with a wry smile.

"Well, then what about family?"

"Nothing special."

My tone must have warned them off the subject, because it didn't come up again.

Mostly, it was just Lion and Bear asking me questions about myself. Matthew answered some, and Alex answered others. Tiger continued to read, but after he'd been on the same page for ten minutes, I knew he was listening.

"Any issues I should know about?" Bear asked, suddenly growing a bit more serious. "As medic, I mean. If you've got any medical conditions, I need to know in case you get hurt."

Oh, my. How to answer.

"Well," I said slowly, looking away from him. "I sometimes take painkillers for an old injury, but I don't think it's anything to worry about."

This was in reference to my snipe wound. It had been over a year, but it had left me with a constant ache in the scar tissue, since it had healed improperly. My escapade during my time in the hospital—the one with the burning building and the improvised tightrope—had seen to that. It had also left me with a minor heart condition which left me with a lower-than-average blood pressure, and made me more sensitive to trauma around my heart.

"Mind if I examine it later?" He said nonchalantly. Obviously it wasn't a big deal to him. It was to me.

"Yes, actually," I said, pretending to be embarrassed. It was a reaction Matthew would have. On the inside, though, as Alex, I was terrified. I had scars littering every part of my body. I didn't want them to see that. "If it's alright, I'd…rather keep it to myself."

Bear blinked. "Oh. Well, I suppose, then. Just…what's it affect, if you don't mind my asking?"

I guess I could answer that. "It's a heart condition."

"Got it," he said, and let the matter drop.

I didn't fail to notice Tiger's piercing eyes.

"So," Lion said, resuming the Q&A session. "You're a weapons expert, eh?"

"Yeah."

"Know a lot about guns?"

I smirked. "You could say that."

"Any other talents?" Tiger asked, a slight sneer in his voice. "Speak anything besides English? Any training in hand-to-hand? Basic field medicine?"

"Tiger, don't—" Lion began to chastise, but I interrupted him.

"I'm fluent in six languages, including English, and I can get by in a few others."

A second of silence, and then Bear laughed. He saw my expression and stopped abruptly, saying, "Oh, bloody hell, you're serious."

"What languages, then?" Tiger asked, his expression challenging.

"English, Spanish, French, Russian, Japanese, Italian."

"You expect me to believe that?" He asked in Russian, his accent flawless.

"I do, actually," I responded in Japanese. "I wouldn't have said it otherwise."

His brow furrowed. "So, we got the boy genius, huh?" He scoffed.

"What about martial arts?" Lion asked, looking confused at the conversation we'd just had. I guess he didn't speak either language.

"Black belt in tae kwon do, and first dan in karate," I said. "I was a well-rounded child, I suppose."

"I'll have to test that tomorrow," Lion grinned. "We've got your evaluation. I'm a black belt in Brazilian Jiu jitsu, so we'll see how we match up."

I smiled in his direction. "Looking forward to it."

"So, any field medicine knowledge?" Bear asked.

I held my hands up, and embarrassed expression flicking across my face. "You've got me. Nothing there."

"Well, thank God for small miracles," Tiger huffed, going back to his book.

Yeah, I thought. Tiger was _definitely_ the one to win over.

**A/N: Heeeey! Hope you guys liked Chapter 1 (the first chapter was just a prologue). Okay so, this is L-Unit. K-Unit comes in later; they're definitely a huge part of the story, and I promise there WILL be some definite hurt Alex overprotective / concerned K Unit, but that's going to be in tandem with L-Unit, and I want to get them introduced and established before I screw it up with K Unit XD**

**Mae: Thanks so much! I hope you liked this chapter!**

**Kc: Thanks so much! I'm so glad!**

**Guest (This is amazing...): Omg thank you so much, that's so nice to hear! I'm so happy you're excited for it; I hope you liked this chapter!**

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	3. Chapter 2

The food was just as bad as I remembered.

It was brown-grey slop that made a distinctly wet sucking noise as it plopped on the (questionably clean) tray. The menu said that it was casserole, but I had a hard time believing it.

Lion made me sit with them. Tiger picked at his food and wasn't overly impressed with anything I said, but I didn't really expect anything more. I didn't care much if he liked me—if any of them liked me, really—I just needed a place to hide until I turned eighteen.

Then, I'd disappear, and I'd be nothing more than a bad memory.

The three of them talked mostly among themselves—well, Tiger listened more than anything—but Lion and Bear tried to include me in the conversation. I answered when asked something and nodded and laughed at the appropriate times, feeling myself easily slip back into the role of actor and observer. If I was being honest, it scared me how easy it was.

When we finished, Lion led us to a familiar part of camp—the assault course. I remembered this monster, and I had no interest in running it again.

"Alright, Jaguar," Lion said, arms crossed. "This is the assault course. It's ¾ of a kilometer long and includes a mud pit, 4-foot hurdles, a climbing wall, and a few other bells and whistles. You have five minutes to examine the course, then you're starting."

I nodded and got to work, walking slowly along the length of the course, picking out the spots that had given me trouble before. My time had been almost 25 minutes when I'd first run it. All in all, that wasn't a very good time, but I'd been two years younger and inexperienced.

I made my way back to the starting line. Five minutes hadn't been near enough time to examine the whole course, but I remembered enough.

Tiger and Bear stood off to the side, watching silently as I shook out my arms, readying myself for the course. Lion held a timer in his hand, his affable persona replaced with a leader evaluating his newest recruit.

A half-smile formed at the thought. If only they knew.

"Go," Lion said suddenly, and before he'd finished the word, I was off. With a quick burst of speed, I used my start to run up the sloped wall (like half of a skateboard pipe) about ten-feet tall. Instead of hoisting myself over the top and climbing, I propelled myself forward with the momentum I already had, feeling the familiar burst of adrenaline and anticipation burning through my veins.

I slid down the opposite side and continued running, climbing the bare rope with ease and swinging myself across the monkey bars. I landed running and continued down the course, my senses working overtime to keep me balanced and to keep my momentum moving.

My chest ached over my heart, but the familiar pain was in the skin of the scar tissue and not the heart muscle, so I paid it no mind.

Time lost meaning to me; it was just one obstacle after the next, and before I really knew it, I was done.

I panted, hands on my knees, exhilaration bringing the smallest smile to my face. _That_ had been a rush.

Someone whistled in appreciation, and I looked up through my sweat soaked bangs to see the three SAS men standing by the finish line. Lion had been the one to whistle, and he waved the timer. "Damn, kid, that's a great time for your first run. What're they feeding you?"

I huffed a laugh, out of breath from the break-neck pace I'd kept. "Trade secret."

I glanced over at Bear and Tiger. Bear was grinning and shaking his head in what I assumed was disbelief, muttering to himself and scanning the course in surprise. Tiger…looked reluctantly impressed. He caught my eye and scoffed, looking away.

Well. There goes that, then.

"Well, if the rest of the day is anything like that, I think you'll fit in just fine," Lion said, swinging an arm around my shoulders. "Let's get you to the infirmary, hm? We'll evaluate your field medicine experience."

Despite still being out of breath, feeling Tiger's eyes drill holes in the back of my skull, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride.

…

I didn't think Tiger's opinion of me was improving.

Not that it made much of a difference. I could work perfectly well with people who didn't like me, but it made it much easier when they did.

I'd had to patch myself up so many times that field medicine was just a more refined version of what I'd already learned. I didn't know what to do with much of what was in the standard kit, but once I figured it out, the actual patching-up was easy.

"You sure you haven't done this before?" The instructor asked, observing the neat row of stitches I'd just sewn into the dummy. "You forgot to sterilize the needle first, but the stitches themselves are quite good. I'm having a hard time believing they're from a beginner."

I shrugged and let a smirk slip. "What can I say? Did a lot of sewing as a kid. Typically cloth doesn't need sterilized needles." Or kids patching themselves up in their bathtub forgot to sterilize them.

That earned a couple chuckles.

"Well, just brush up on the process for disinfecting and sterilizing everything, and you'll be fine," the instructor said as she packed up her supplies, handing me a pamphlet. "There's an optional lecture in the mess next Tuesday on the basics, if you'd like to come."

I put the pamphlet in my pants pocket, nodding in thanks. "I'll try to. Thank you."

Next was hand-to-hand. The training facility was a large warehouse with metal walls that reverberated every sound you made. There were mats laid out over the left half of the floor, while the right half of the warehouse held several weight machines, pullup bars, medicine balls, and other strength training equipment.

Lion started taking off his outerwear, shedding his jacket, shoes, and socks. I did the same. "I don't want to have an all-out fight," Lion said, swinging himself into what looked like a boxing ring, about two feet off the ground. "I just want to do some light sparring to assess what you're capable of."

I nodded, sharpening my mind, focusing in on the world around me. I had a bad habit of slipping into survival mode because—well, in most of my hand to hand fights, I was trying to stay alive.

But this was friendly competition. A small matchup between the two of us, and neither of us had any intention of hurting the other beyond maybe a couple light bruises.

I swung myself into the ring and waited.

Lion smirked. "Smart kid, not making the first move."

I grinned, zeroing in on the slight shift of his stance. "I've been told I've got a knack for reading my opponent, and you don't look like the kind of guy to strike first, either."

"Well," he said, adjusting his weight, leaning back on his heels, "I'll make an exception."

He lunged, his right fist coming towards my left shoulder. I swiveled on one foot, out of the way of his strike, and pivoted my body completely around, my left leg coming towards his left temple as my body dipped low to the ground and I spun. Lion ducked low and grabbed my thigh, using it to twist my body so my back was parallel to the ground.

I overcompensated for his spin and turned completely around, my other heel striking his temple. He let me go and backed up, stunned, and I hit the mat on my back, already swinging myself around and onto my feet, my eyes never leaving him.

My hands were shaking.

_Just a practice. Just a practice_.

Lion lunged again, his expression neutral, professional. I ducked under his swing and grabbed him around his chest, just under his arms. I was a good bit smaller than him, so the move wasn't perfect, but it worked well enough, and I threw him onto the mat. He expected it, though, and hooked his feet around one of my ankles.

I went down and already started to somersault to my feet, but he lunged and grabbed my wrist, hooking a leg over my chest in line with my collarbone, and he locked my arm against him, the joint pulling uncomfortably. In a real fight, he would've gone for my neck, and I would be suffocating.

_Just a practice_.

"You wanna yield?" Lion panted, and I could feel the sweat beading on my face. Maybe yielding would be a good idea. I didn't know how much longer I could keep my composure.

"Hell no," I said despite myself, exhilaration burning in my lungs. He was definitely strong and well-built, but I'd learned too many field tricks for a move like that to keep me down long.

Grabbing the ankle just beside my shoulder, I pushed his leg out and twisted simultaneously. My arm wasn't nearly as strong as his leg, but his joint must have pulled uncomfortably (which was the whole idea) and his grip lessened enough for me to shove his leg up and over my head, and I rolled towards him. The arm in his grip bent at the elbow (the right way, thankfully) and I used my momentum to push myself up, flipping over him and wrenching my arm out of his grasp.

He rolled away from me and started to roll onto his feet, but I was quicker. I jumped onto his back, wrapping my legs around his hips and an arm around his throat, tightening just enough to cause him discomfort.

Normally, I would've just stayed on the ground and performed the move, but this gave me more leverage, and he had a harder time pushing me off.

Also. I was too short. Not that it mattered or anything.

"I could've choked you out by now," I said, hearing his slight wheeze as he backed me into the ring's siding, tugging on my arm. My free hand held my wrist, though, and I had too much leverage for him to pry it off. "Yield?"

After a moment more of struggling, he tapped my shoulder, and I immediately released him, jumping down.

_See? Just a practice. Stop freaking out_.

Matthew was exhilarated. Proud of his accomplishment. Happy with himself.

I was shaking. I'd barely kept it together.

Lightly massaging his throat, Lion let out a breathy laugh. "Damn, kid," he said, clearing his throat and sticking out a hand. "You've got some good moves."

I took it, reluctantly. As soon as he took my hand, he glanced down. "You alright?"

My hand was trembling.

"Yeah, fine," I said, tucking it into my pocket, looking around. "What's next?"

He tilted his head, but said nothing as Tiger responded, "Shooting. Let's see where you rank in your concentration, kid."

I sighed. I was getting really sick of being called kid.

…

I was glad my hands had steadied by the time we reached the arsenal.

On the wall, behind a locked glass sliding door, were dozens and dozens of weapons. Hand guns, assault rifles, regular rifles, shotguns…the list went on. I was pretty impressed with the assortment.

"Okay," Lion said, Bear and Tiger talking quietly on the other side of the range. Bear was putting on some earmuffs, and Tiger was handing him a handgun, safety on. I guessed they were going to practice while Lion evaluated me. I saw Bear say something, and Tiger laughed.

Hm. That was a first. He _could_ express a positive emotion.

"Oi," Lion said, and I snapped back to him, heat creeping into my cheeks. "You listening?"

"Um…no."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing behind him. "Listen. I'm gonna level with you, yeah?" He took a deep breath, his expression drawn. "Don't take it too personally, about Tiger. We lost…a good friend, about a year ago. Nobody our unit has gotten so far has filled that gap. Tiger took it especially hard, okay? It's not you personally."

I shoved my hands in my pockets. "Sorry to hear that." I felt like a bit of an ass trying to worm my way into their lives with lies and deceit, only to find out that they weren't accepting me because they'd lost someone.

I knew all about loss.

Every day, I was regretting this decision more and more.

Lion clapped me on the shoulder, smiling. "It's nothing you need to worry about, hm? Choose a gun."

I nodded, turning to the case behind me, walking the length of it, looking for one I was familiar with…

I smiled, stopping. _There's_ my gun.

It was a sleek black handgun, 8 millimeters. Sliding the case open, which Lion had unlocked, I took it off the rack. It slipped into my hand nicely, the ergonomic grip easy in the palm of my hand. I checked the clip; it was full. I slipped it back into place and checked the gage.

"This is a nice freaking gun," I muttered, because it really was. This was the same model as the first gun I'd ever bought myself (from Smithers, of course). MI6 wouldn't let me have my own weapon, but that doesn't mean I didn't buy one under their noses.

Lion barked a laugh. "Well, it just looks like a gun to me, so I guess it's a good sign that you can differentiate."

I made my way over to one of the windows, slipping some earmuffs on and cocking the gun. I zeroed in on the target at the end of the range, lifting my arms. I glanced back at Lion. Out of my periphery, I saw Bear and Tiger watching casually.

Lion nodded, leaning back, his arms crossed. He had put on earmuffs of his own.

I turned back to target and emptied the clip in ten seconds flat.

I'd reached for the extra clip on the table in front of me before the last bullet had even left the chamber. As soon as the trigger recoiled, I popped the empty clip out and jammed the other into place, emptying the second clip in a similar time. The whole reloading process had taken about a second and a half.

It was all over in about twenty seconds.

My heart was pounding. The sound of gunshots brought it all back for a moment, and I had to grip the edge of the counter to steady myself.

None of the others noticed, though, not with how they were all staring at my target.

Lion fumbled for the recall button, and the belt brought us the target in a matter of seconds. Tiger was the one to take it down, laying it flat on the table behind me.

"Holy freaking shit," Bear breathed, standing behind Tiger. Lion ambled over as well, all of them slack-jawed and staring.

In the very center of the center circle was a single hole.

"Okay," Bear breathed, putting his hands up and walking away. "I'm out. I'm done. I'm quitting. If there are people who can shoot like _that_, I'm—wow, we're all screwed."

I tilted my head, considering, but didn't turn around. I was still trying to calm my pulse.

Shaking my head, sliding off the earmuffs with shaking hands, I turned around and joined them. "I'm not an expert for nothing, you know. I know how to shoot."

"How did you do that?" Tiger asked, disbelief in his voice. He eyed me suspiciously, his hands gripping the counter. "How—that isn't _possible_, Jaguar. I've met some of the best shots in the country, and they can't make a perfect freaking circle."

I pursed my lips. "It's not perfect. Look." I pointed to a chip on the right side where one of the bullets had jerked to the right a bit.

I shuddered. In Malagosto, Scorpia would've—I didn't want to think about what they'd have done to a trainee for such an obvious mistake.

No one said anything to that.

Lion ran a hand through his hair. "So, I mean—what is that? That's not a shooting style I've ever seen before. It's like you didn't even aim."

I flinched. If they noticed, they didn't mention it. "It's called instinctive shooting."

"Never heard of it," Bear said, and Lion looked confused, as well.

"I have," Tiger said, cold eyes boring into mine. Wow, this day was beginning to suck. "I didn't think they taught that anymore. Especially not to kids as young as you."

I shrugged, feeling my shoulders tense. "I had an old-fashioned teacher. Do you need to see anything else?" My tone warned them off of anymore questions, but I knew it was only for the moment.

"Uh—I mean, I guess it's unnecessary, but yeah, just go back to your window and I'll replace the targets," Lion said, folding up the paper and whispering something to Tiger and Bear about the Sergeant.

I grabbed two more clips and loaded the gun, setting the other on the counter in front of me. I was busy making sure the gun was still good, that the trigger hadn't jammed and the slide was still functioning, so when I looked back up, raising my gun, I wasn't prepared for what I saw.

I faltered, the gun sagging in front of me, and clenched my hands harder to steady them.

Human targets.

Faceless, thank God, but human targets all the same. Involuntarily, snippets of my training in SCORPIA whipped across my vision, of targets with faces and blood and emotion who each got a bullet straight through the forehead. I knew, I _knew_, they were just cardboard, just paper, but…

"Whenever you're ready," Lion said, and I brought my gun back up, trying to force my arms steady.

I heard new footsteps enter behind me and glanced back to see the Sergeant enter with Bear on his heels, folding his arms and watching carefully. Dammit. I shouldn't have even looked.

I could feel the gun shaking in my hands and grit my teeth, adjusting my aim. I couldn't do it. I wouldn't be able to make a kill-shot at this rate, but I could do other things.

I memorized the figure and closed my eyes.

I emptied the clip, adjusting my aim every couple shots, and reloaded just as quickly as I had the last time. I emptied the second one, too; the whole process took a bit longer, but when I opened my eyes, I sighed in relief.

There was silence as the target was brought back, before I distinctly heard Tiger's, "What the hell?"

I turned, setting the empty gun on the window ledge and taking off the earmuffs, joining the others crowded around the target on the table. Tiger turned angry eyes to me. "Where the hell's your circle? It looks you played pin the tail on the donkey with vertigo."

I pursed my lips, watching the Sergeant's face out of the corner of my eye. He looked pensive, his eyes taking in every bullet hole on the paper, straying to the bullseye every moment or so.

"He's not going anywhere, anyways," I said, tapping the leg. "That's the femoral vein." I moved my hand to the shoulder. "That's the brachial artery, and that," I continued, moving to the left side, "is the exterior oblique muscle. They're shots to incapacitate for extended periods of time. Any one of these will cause enough bleeding to put them out of commission."

There was more silence. I shifted uncomfortably, finally retreating to the solace of the window, sliding the gun back into the palm of my hand. "Am I done, or do you want to see anything else?"

Lion rubbed the back of his neck, his facial expression conflicted, and opened his mouth to reply. Before he could, however, the Sergeant said, "Lion, replace the target. Jaguar, grab a clip. I'm going to give you a scenario."

A jolt traveled down my spine, but I hid it, doing what I was told as Tiger and Bear observed quietly, Tiger still fuming. Lion replaced the target—human again—and the Sergeant started talking.

"You're on active duty, undercover deep in enemy territory, and you've been made. Backup is twenty clicks out. Two of your unit-mates are unconscious, and the other one is two inches away from joining them. There's someone in front of you; he's found where you've hunkered down. There's more where he came from. He's got a gun on you, and he's not afraid to use it on you or your defenseless teammates. You have one bullet left." To illustrate, he plucked the clip from my hands and emptied it, sliding one bullet into the top chamber, handing it back to me. His eyes were hard, and from the way he looked at me, I could tell he knew exactly what he was doing. "What do you do?"

I looked down at the gun in my hand and avoided his eyes, turning back towards the target now at the end of the range. I slipped the earmuffs on, taking my time. I slid the gun into my hand again, testing the grip, checking the slide, checking the clip, and finally raising my arms. I stared down the length of the gun, eyes zeroing in on the human target down the range, finding the precise spot in the center of the forehead. I internalized it, I memorized it.

I shot.

After a few seconds, there was a scoff of disbelief and an angry mutter, then heated footsteps marching out of the range, a slew of whispered expletives in his wake. There were softer, more tentative footsteps following. I lowered the gun, my hands in tight fists.

The target was recalled, and Lion took it down, his face creased in disappointment.

There was a single hole two inches to the right of the target's head, in the white space that would have signified utterly useless air in a real situation.

"So we've got a weapons expert and sharpshooter that either refuses to or just can't shoot real targets," the Sergeant said, his voice almost expressionless, "but can make a single hole with barely any overlay in anything else."

I didn't know if I was supposed to respond. I put the gun down and slid the earmuffs off once again, turning around, standing at attention. "Yes, sir."

"Pathetic." I flinched. The Sergeant walked up to me, his impressive frame moving slowly, deliberately. He got right in my face and poked me in the chest, his expression hardly short of murderous. "I refuse to send your unit out on a real mission until you have your act together, Jaguar. You give me another show like that and you're _binned_. Do you understand?"

I grit my teeth, my hands fisted beside me, and bit out, "Yes, sir."

With one more shove, he turned and stalked away from me, out the door. The shove had caused me to stumble back into the counter, and I leaned against it, rubbing my sternum. My chest ached where I'd been shoved, just to the right of my scar tissue.

"So…what the hell, Jaguar?" Lion asked, still looking at the targets. "What's up with you?"

I checked the slide before setting the gun back onto the wall on its handle, sliding the glass door closed. "I'll work on it."

"That's not what I asked," Lion said, grabbing my bicep when I tried to leave. I flinched at his touch, but if he noticed, he didn't say anything. "What happened? Why is it that you can shoot so well on regular targets, but the second it's a person you freak out?"

I jerked my arm out of his grip, and he stumbled back in surprise. "I said I'd work on it. By the time we're on active duty I'll be able to do it."

I walked away from him, not interested in a response. I should've gone to the mess, but the thought of the slop made my stomach churn even more than it already was, and I headed to the lake. Checking my surroundings, making sure I was alone, I hoisted myself up into one of the thickest trees, settling myself against the firm trunk, hidden from sight.

I dragged a hand down my face, trying to get my bearings, and clutched at my hair, my face turned down. My forehead rested on my knees.

_Get a grip_. I chided myself, knowing that this was a horribly childish position, that I should take the criticism like a man and fix what needed to be fixed, but I wasn't a man. I was just a kid, and I was starting to feel it. I wanted to go home.

_You don't have a home_, said a voice in the very back of my mind, whispering softly, surely. _There's nowhere to go._

I shouldn't have come here.

I didn't know if I'd ever be able to make a kill-shot on a human target. In the field, it wouldn't be a problem, which almost scared me more…but I couldn't very well tell them that and expect everything to be okay, could I?

_If Jack was here, it would be alright_.

I flinched at the thought of her, shutting my eyes tightly against the swell of emotion rising in my chest. I buried my face in my knees and crossed my arms over my head, muffling sound and shutting out the light from the setting sun, hoping to find some piece in the stillness.

It helped. It calmed my breathing, but I couldn't stop the tears.

I stayed there for the better part of that night, unable to face L-unit. Unwilling.

It was a long night.

**A/N: Hey! Sorry for the long wait. Hope this was worth it! For those of you worried that I'm going to torture Alex for thirty chapters and call it a day, never fear, his unit comes around :) it just takes some time. And K-Unit will appear!**

**Shoutout to all my reviewers from Chapter 2: bethrwilson04, otterpineapple06, GuestyGuest, ghostinthewrongcoat, teacrumpets9, Kc, EmoWolf, DymphiStiles, Guest, UsedToBeHuman, guest, and Oriande Moonshadow! **

**GuestyGuest: Aw, thank you so much! I really appreciate it!**

**Kc: Thanks so much! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**EmoWolf: Wow, thank you so much! I can't tell you how much that means to me! And trust me, so am I! They're coming ;)**

**Guest: Thanks so much! Yeah, I wanted to play with Matthew a bit :) hehe they're coming**

**guest: Thanks so much! Hope this didn't disappoint!**

**Thanks so much for sticking with this story!**


	4. Chapter 3

I skipped breakfast the next morning, electing to take a long shower, instead. I was grateful for the privacy—I was always worried someone would see me, see the scars on my body and the stories that followed, but everyone was in the mess. I snuck into L-Unit's cabin and changed quickly, meeting them instead at the gym where we'd done hand-to-hand the day before.

"Where were you?" Bear asked the second he saw me. I was by the ring, stretching, warming up. None of the other units had arrived yet. If the rumors were correct, there was some sort of assembly, remedial training of some sort. I guessed our unit had tested out. "You skipped dinner. And breakfast."

"And you didn't come back to the cabin," Lion added, taking a swig of his water bottle and draping his sweat towel over one of the ring's cords.

"Practicing," I grunted, trying to touch my toes from where I sat on the ground, grabbing my feet and holding for five seconds before releasing, standing up.

"Don't bullshit us," Tiger growled, looking just short of murderous from where he glared at me, doing his own stretches. "The range is locked at night, and I talked to Puma, who opened it this morning. You weren't there."

"There's other ways to practice," I replied, not looking at him. "Mental practice is actually a big help."

Tiger scoffed. Bear and Lion didn't say anything.

I sighed.

"We're going to have to talk about it at some point," Lion said in passing as Tiger and Bear readied to face each other in the ring. Bear made a joke and Tiger just barely cracked a smile, turning fond eyes on the younger man.

My heart ached.

"No we're not," I said decisively, folding my arms across my chest and staring resolutely into the ring. "I said I'd work on it. I have and I am. Give me a bit of time and I'll be able to do it."

"Yeah, that's not what I'm worried about," Lion argued, leaning against the ring, flicking his eyes at his two other unit mates. "You're my unit mate now, Jaguar. I need to trust you with the rest of my unit, because those two idiots are my brothers." There was something dark in Lion's eyes. "I want to trust you, but you're making it hard."

I couldn't look at him.

He could never trust me, because I was deceiving him with every word that came out of my mouth.

"You don't have to trust me," I said quietly, turning slightly away from him. "and I don't have to trust you. All I ask is that you trust that I'll do what it takes to get everyone home, and I'll trust the same from you. Beyond that…it's up to you." I took a breath, steeling myself, and sagged a bit at the bitter taste left by my next words. "I didn't come looking for a family, Lion. You don't…you don't have to treat me like a brother, or even like a friend. I'm just a colleague."

I didn't come looking for a family. But _God_, I wanted one.

Lion didn't seem to expect that, either. He blinked, face growing cool and impassive, and heaved a world-weary sigh. "You don't know what it means to be a unit at all, do you, mate?"

I tried to be offended by that, shooting him a sharp glare. There were a couple retorts I could've thrown back that would've shut him down quick, but they all would've revealed something about my identity I wanted buried.

I opted for silence, turning away from him. He didn't follow up with anything else.

I was starting to hate this place.

…

"You're up, Jaguar," Lion said, swinging himself into the ring. Tiger had pinned Bear twice, and they'd come to a standstill the third round. I'd been observing.

Tiger was good. Nowhere near Lion's level, but that was expected since Lion was the resident expert. He was quick and deliberate with his moves and actions, wasting no time or opportunity. I'd watch out for Tiger.

Bear was inexperienced and clumsy, but he had a good foundation. His form was good. His hits were quick and clean, but he wasn't very observant. He favored his left side too much and left himself open to attacks.

Bear swung himself out of the ring, breathing heavily. "You know, you could go easy on me," he pouted towards Tiger, his voice whiny. I resisted the urge to snort.

"Is an enemy going to go easy on you in the field?" Tiger shot back, taking a long drag from his water bottle, sitting down to unlace his trainers.

Bear grumbled, but didn't answer. I snagged his shirt-sleeve as he passed, whispering, "Next round, focus on your left side. You leave it open too much because you're so right-hand dominant. Pay more attention to your opponent instead of just yourself."

I gave him a pat on the shoulder, ignoring his slack jaw, and swung myself into the ring. "Ready?"

Lion nodded, stretching with his hands behind his back, then bringing them around in front of him, up in loose fists. "Ready."

When he lashed out, I could tell he was pissed.

He was nothing like the practice match yesterday. His movements were quick and deadly with an aggressive edge that didn't fit his personality. Obviously I'd pissed him off.

Well, honestly it wasn't like I'd been _trying _to. I couldn't very well have them digging into my past, could I? But something must have set him off, because he wasn't messing around.

Well, I wouldn't mess around either, then.

I struck quick at his jaw—a love tap, nothing more—but he swung himself out of the way and responded in kind, shooting a heel towards my kidneys. I shoved his foot down at the ankle and managed to twist out of the path of his fist, but it still glanced off my shoulder.

Ow. He _really_ wasn't messing around.

"Little riled up, are we?" I said, dancing back to catch my breath.

Lion gave a humorless smile. "You seem to have that effect on people, Jaguar."

I struck without replying, aiming a fist at his head—

Pain exploded in my chest.

Damn. He'd gotten a lucky shot in. And I'd been trying to be careful, too.

He'd managed to catch me in the chest with the heel of his palm. The shot was directly on my sternum, but I felt my heart shudder at the impact, the ring of scar tissue encircling the bullet wound igniting with just the slightest blow.

My vision went white and I felt my body thud onto the mat.

There was silence for a moment. The breath had been knocked from my lungs, the spasming organs contracting until I finally managed to suck in a sliver of air. I gasped again, my eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of pain, my heart thudding and thudding and aching—

A hand shook my shoulder, a voice reaching my ears. "Jaguar? Jaguar, come on, man. I didn't hit you that hard…Jaguar?"

Lion. He sounded worried.

I forced myself to inhale slowly, albeit shakily, and counted to five before exhaling. The pressure of the air trapped in my chest forced my heart to calm, at least a little. Opening my eyes, sitting up slowly, I kept one hand over my chest, massaging the scar tissue. I hunched over as soon as I was sitting up, still out of breath.

"Give me…" I gasped, trying to get the words out, "me a…minute…"

Bear and Tiger had found their way into the ring as well, looking on with concerned eyes. Bear came to kneel beside me, putting a steadying hand on my back. "Oi, breathe, mate. Deep breaths, alright? You're alright."

His voice was calm, bearing no trace of the worry in his eyes. I closed my eyes again, forcing myself to take a steadying breath. My heart was still spasming, struggling, the scar tissue aching anew, but the white had cleared from my vision, and breathing was easier now.

"I'm okay," I wheezed, shrugging off the hands that tried to steady me, immediately wishing I hadn't. "Bloody hell…"

"What happened?" Lion asked, clasping a hand firmly on my shoulder to keep me upright. The look on his face said he wouldn't be moving it anytime soon. "I was pulling my punches, Jaguar; it should have winded you, nothing more."

I wheezed a laugh, fighting to stand, only to fall back onto the mat on my ass. Great start. "I'd hate to see you at…full strength, then…"

I was snapped back into startling clarity as soon as someone's fingers brushed against my abdomen, seizing the hem of my shirt. Without really registering what was happening, even what was going on, my hand shot out to grip the person's wrist in a bruising grip, halting their progress.

When my mind caught up with my body after a dizzying second of disassociation, I looked up to see Bear's wary expression, eyes locked on my white-knuckled grip around his wrist. He was holding a stethoscope. I looked past him to see Tiger holding a first-aid kit. I hadn't even realized he'd left to get it.

"I'm fine," I emphasized as strongly as I could. I let go of his wrist, a little guilty as his face scrunched in pain as he shook out the limb. "Sorry."

"No worries," he said, inspecting his hand. "You've got quite a grip, mate. You're strong for such a small bloke."

I shot him a glare, and he grinned impishly before sobering again. "I'd like to listen to your heart, though. That's where you were grabbing, weren't you?"

Lion's head whipped around at his words, the color draining from his face. "What? Jaguar, what's wrong with your heart?"

_Damn_, I thought. _This is going to be tough to lie about_.

"I told you I had a heart condition," I said slowly, my right hand bracing my left shoulder as I rolled my arm around in the socket, trying to ignore the burning tug in the skin above my heart. Sitting up was easier, now. Another minute or so and I'd be steady enough to stand. "I'm just sensitive to contact around the area. It's nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about?" Tiger cut in, speaking his first words since the whole ordeal started. His voice was a low growl. "How about when we get out on an active mission, huh? Somebody hits your chest, you're down for the count. How's that nothing to worry about?"

I schooled my features, fixing him with an icy glare. He didn't seem intimidated. "I'll handle it. It'll be fine."

"You know, you keep saying that," Tiger said, stalking forward. Lion stood to intercept him, but Tiger just kept talking over his shoulder. "I'll be able to make a kill-shot. I'll be able to keep someone from hitting my chest. It'll be fine." His lips curled up in a sneer. "There's something off about you, kid. Did you come here to serve your country or to die?"

"Tiger!" Bear shouted, the word as angry as it was shocked.

For my part, I stood and stalked up to him, my movements slow, deliberate. Calculated. Deadly.

"Excuse me?"

Tiger didn't seem to sense the purpose in my movements. "We get 'em, sometimes. People who come here to get themselves killed. They're the cowards," he said, and his lips were curled in disgust, and something twisted in my chest that had nothing to do with the pain from a moment ago. "I looked you up, you know. We have access to each others' files."

My heart skipped a beat before I remembered that the only file they'd have access to was the one with the fraudulent information. The fake family, the forged GSCE certificates, the fraudulent birth certificates…none of it was real.

"Doesn't look like you've got a lot to live for," he said, and despite myself, despite the cool exterior, I flinched. "So did you come to die? Because if you came here to take a coward's way out, I'll kill you myself, before you bring one or more of us home in a body bag." He let out a humorless laugh. "Based on your track record, I'd say that happens a lot, yeah? Lots of body bags in your lineup."

I almost choked.

It had been easier that way. To say that most of my fake family was deceased. But Tiger would never know how painful that one sentence was.

"_Tiger_." Lion said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder and pushing him back a pace or two. "That's enough."

He cast a wary glance back at me, but by the time his eyes widened in realization of what was happening, before Bear could cry out a warning, I was already shoving Lion out of the way and sending my fist solidly into Tiger's jaw.

I had enough presence of mind to pull my punch. If I hadn't, Tiger's jaw would've been knocked loose from its hinge. He deserved it. But the force was enough to send him reeling back, falling onto the cords surrounding the ring, catching his balance as he put a hand to his surely throbbing jaw.

"You bastard—" He started the insult, but when he met my eyes, he faltered.

I didn't know if I'd ever stared at someone with this much hatred before. I felt Lion grab me to haul me back, but I shoved him off and grabbed the collar of Tiger's shirt, and he didn't fight me. "You don't know anything about me." The words were cold and clipped.

Quietly, as a challenge, Tiger let a bit of his previous sneer return. "And whose fault is that?"

I scoffed, letting him go with a shove, swinging myself out of the ring. I didn't have an answer for him.

"Jaguar," Lion called, uncertainty in his voice. I didn't stop. "Jaguar!"

"_What_?" I growled, barely turning around.

"We need to talk about this," he said, cringing when he realized how weak that sounded. Tiger's back was to me. Bear still knelt on the ground, watching the scene with wide eyes.

"Then talk about it." I left.

…

I went to the range.

I put my perfect circles into three bulls-eyes before I finally worked up the nerve to put a human target in the lineup. There were a couple others practicing as well, but I left them alone and they left me alone.

I slipped on the headphones and hoisted the gun up, staring at the impersonal curves and straight lines of the target, placed to make nothing more than a rough outline of a person. Not only did it not have a face, but there was no way to tell if it was male of female. No way to tell what color eyes they had, what kind of smile they wore. How they dressed.

It wasn't a person.

It was just cardboard.

I closed my eyes and fired.

I tried to trick myself into making the kill-shot. I went through the list of places I could shoot to incapacitate, and tried to spontaneously work in a headshot without really thinking about it.

Lowering the empty gun, I opened my eyes and recalled the target.

No dice.

I resisted the urge to throw the gun across the range in utter frustration, knowing how well _that_ would end. Instead I took a deep breath, crumpling up the useless paper and throwing it in a nearby rubbish bin. I put the gun back on the rack and left.

Maybe I could run away. Disappear. Just slip away into the forest one night and not come back. I hadn't been here long enough to leave a mark, not really. I could fade like a ghost and no one would remember Matthew Smith until he popped up somewhere halfway across the world.

I wandered to the lake, sitting down with my back against a tree. The mud soaked into my shorts, but I was too tired to care.

_Did you come here to serve your country or to die_?

I sighed, closing my eyes as I remembered Tiger's words.

Neither. I came to hide. But one of those wouldn't be such a bad idea.

I shook my head, shoving the heels of my hands into my eyes. I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't—wouldn't hurt myself like that. Jack and Sabina, Ian, hell, Yassen—I wouldn't let them down like that.

"Why the long face?"

My head snapped up, and I looked up to see a face I never thought I'd see again. The Scottish voice was unmistakable.

"Oi, ye're one o' the new recruits, right? What's gone wrong so quick that ye're hidin' out here?"

I couldn't even speak, I was so shocked. Because standing in front of me was Snake.

I supposed I should've expected to see them again. They were, after all, SAS. But I didn't think I'd cross paths with them very much; there were hundreds of men here. I didn't think I'd ever be alone with them.

"Ye a mute, kid?" Snake said, settling into the mud beside me. "Besides, this was my spot first. It can all be a bit much, the guys and the war. Ye like the quiet, too?"

"Yeah," I managed to squeak, futilely turning my face away. He didn't seem like he'd recognized me, though.

"Oh, he speaks," Snake grinned good-naturedly. "I'm Snake. What's yer codename?"

"Jaguar," I said, unfurling my legs and sitting up straighter, trying to appear a little more put together.

"Nice name, that one," he commented, staring out at the lake. "So, what happened, Jaguar? Ye don't look so stellar."

"Nothing," I said automatically. He raised an eyebrow, and I sighed. "Had a fight with my new unit. S'nothing."

"Ah, don't agonize too much over it," he said, thumping my shoulder solidly. I was still paranoid about him recognizing me, but he didn't seem to be paying much attention to my face. "New units get into all sorts o' trouble with each other at first. My unit was a train wreck when we first started."

"And now?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Snake smiled. "Thick as thieves. Brothers, more like."

I sighed. That was what I was afraid of.

Snake stood, dusting himself off. "Tell ye what, Jaguar. I'll share this spot with ye from now on. Looks like ye could use the quiet."

I breathed out a sigh. Well, he was right about that. "Thanks, Snake."

"Any time," he said with an easy smile, starting back towards the camp. "Wolf'll have me head if I'm late again. Make up with yer unit quick, kid; always easier tha' way."

Belatedly, I raised a tentative hand in farewell, watching him walk away.

I gazed over the lake, reveling in the easy silence, and for the first time in a while, I felt myself smile.

Who knew that one of the people who'd tormented me the first time around would be the first one to show me real kindness the second time?

**A/N: Hey guys! Been awhile, sorry. And I'm so mean aren't I? Don't worry, next chapter starts the healing :)**

**Thanks so much to all my chapter 3 reviewers: teacrumpets9, otterpineapple06, Guest, Gerdiena, Guest, ooooooooooo, CuteFishy, VINAI, Kc, and Bumbee! I appreciate you guys taking the time to review! I reply to all of them, so feel free to ask questions or offer advice / constructive criticism.**

**Kc: Thanks so much!**

**Ooooooooo: Aw I appreciate it! Thank you!**

**Guest: Hehehe you may be right…thanks for reviewing!**

**Thanks for everyone who is following / has favorited this story! Hope you continue to read!**


	5. Chapter 4

I went back to the cabin later that day.

I was going to have to go back at some point. Luckily, when I got there, the others were still out training. I wondered how bad this looked on me, skipping training, punching my unit mates. Missing meals and sleep.

I wondered when I'd stopped caring so much.

Listening for a moment, making sure no one was approaching the cabin, I fished the folded, worn photos out from the bottom of my bag and thumbed through them, sitting on my hard bed in the cold. They had everyone—my parents, the Pleasures, Ian, Jack…even Yassen.

Everyone was dead. Well, Liz and Edward were alive…but hell, I was probably dead to them.

Voices drifted through the closed door. With practiced haste, I dropped the photos to the bottom of the bag and plucked up a book, opening to a random page and pretending to read. My back was to the door.

It opened, and the voices stopped when they saw me.

"Jaguar," Lion said, his voice a mixture of concerned and pissed. "We didn't think we'd see you the rest of the day."

"I didn't combust," I responded flatly, turning the page. "I'm still here."

"How's your chest?" Bear asked, uncertainly.

Hesitantly, I said, "Better now. Thanks."

I felt bad. Bear and Lion had actually been nothing but nice and welcoming. Tiger just pushed every button I had.

I sighed. Probably time to do something about that.

"Tiger," I said slowly. Tiger's eyes flicked to mine, and he hid his surprise that I was addressing him directly. "I'm sorry I hit you."

He couldn't quite hide his surprise at that. Neither could the others.

"But you ever say anything like that to me again, I'll break your nose."

Tiger's eyes narrowed. I had a feeling that was more like what he'd been expecting. "You talk a big game for a runt with a faulty battery," he said gruffly, slinging himself into his bunk.

"So do you for a guy who needs a pocket dictionary for French," I retorted, eyes hard. I nodded my head to the smaller book poking just out of his bag. "Communications expert indeed."

Tiger leaned just far enough over to glare down at me, saying, "Watch it, you bloody pipsqueak. Give me something else to kick your ass over, I dare you."

"Guys, can you settle down for a damn minute?" Lion asked, hands out placatingly. "We've only got a bit of downtime—"

"Don't let me spoil it for her royal highness," I said, shoving my book in my bag. "I'll be at the range."

"Have fun with your cardboard cutouts, kiddie!" Tiger shouted.

"Good God, it's like having preteen girls," Bear said exhaustedly.

I couldn't quite help a snort at that.

…

The range wasn't much help.

I managed to nick the ear of a human target, much closer than I'd gotten previously, but still nothing on the kill shot. Sighing, frustrated, I recognized that I wouldn't get anymore quality practice that day, and replaced the gun.

We had a lecture that day on undercover operations. I felt foolish having to go to it, but I dragged myself there and grabbed a seat in the back. I didn't see my unit, which was just as well. I probably wouldn't have taken the initiative to sit with them anyhow.

Unfortunately Lion, the outstanding leader he was, made us sit together in an effort to improve relations.

Needless to say, Lion and Bear sat in the middle.

The lecture was mind-numbingly boring, especially to someone who was actively undercover, using a fake name, personality, background, and disguise, keeping a low profile in a hostile environment.

AKA, yours truly.

I sighed, looking forward to some rest tonight. Granted, I couldn't be sure Tiger wouldn't start a campfire with my belongings when I wasn't looking, but still—the prospect of some real sleep was nice.

I should've known the luck of the devil couldn't last that long.

…

I'd gotten maybe three hours of sleep when the door was kicked down.

My instincts reacted before my mind woke up, launching my body out of bed and into a defensive stance behind it, trying to put some obstacles between us. I blinked rapidly to clear my vision and heard the others waking up, dragged out of bed or startled awake by the noise.

What was happening? Was the base being attacked?

Or was someone here for me?

Had I really been discovered after only six months?

A fist came at me, and I ducked, sending a roundhouse kick to the assailant's chest. He stumbled back with a wheezed breath, but more men were piling into the room. Lion and Bear had already been dragged outside, and Tiger was being dragged down from his upper bunk.

I was fighting well, but I'd been surprised, overwhelmed, and already exhausted. Someone got in a lucky shot, catching me in the chin. My head snapped back as my lip split open, and someone seized my arm, twisting it behind my back and propelling me forward.

I hissed in pain, struggling anyways, but then there were two, and then _three_, guys dragging me outside. The forced me to my knees in the mud, the rest of the unit already lined up.

I landed with a grunt, and they released me, but a cold circle of metal at the back of my neck kept my from retaliating.

"Damn kid can squirm," someone said behind me.

"Is that you excuse for taking so long to get him out here?" The man in front of us said. Risking a glance, I looked up at him. He was tall, _way_ taller than me, in black tactical gear with a handgun in his palm. His face was shrouded in the darkness, but I could tell he had sharp features, and angular jaw with hard eyes to match.

The man behind me didn't answer, just dug the muzzle harder into the back of my neck. Hissing, I held my hands a little higher.

"Get them out of here," the leader said, and my arms were immediately grabbed. I was lifted and dragged away towards the storage barracks, the rest of my unit being dragged in front of me in a similar fashion.

I didn't fight back. I decided to wait it out, see what was going on before reacting.

They threw us into the room like sacks of potatoes and shut the door, a couple dim bulbs illuminating the shoddy space.

Dusting my knees off and standing, I went immediately to the door, testing the lock.

"Don't bother," Lion said, making himself comfortable against a wall. "The Green Jackets aren't that sloppy."

"Green Jackets?" I asked, testing the hinges for weaknesses. Why did that name sound familiar?

"RTI enforcers. Buch of bloody blockheads, you ask me," Tiger scoffed, positioning himself next to Lion. "Bear, you alright?"

"Peachy," the medic spat, sitting up and hissing, an arm around his ribs. "Damn guy could split a rock with that punch."

"Anything broken?" I asked absently, feeling the draft from the crack of the door.

"Nah, just bruised," he admitted, lying back down. "I bloody _hate_ RTI."

If I was being honest, I'd never been more relieved to hear that this was a scheduled training exercise on interrogation.

The other options were much worse.

"Just resist interrogation?" I asked, giving up on the door and running my fingers along the wall, looking for loose nails or boards I could either pry away or use for a weapon.

"Pretty much," Lion responded. "Anybody spills, we're all binned—or, in our case, put on probation, since we're an established unit."

"Got it, runt?" Tiger grunted, voice deadly serious. "Don't spill. We clear?"

I scoffed. "You don't have to worry about that."

…

The Green Jackets came back after a few hours and dragged Bear away.

Tiger had put up an impressive fight, too, and was now sporting a few nice cuts and bruises to show for his efforts. Lion had pitched in and, when it looked unavoidable, I'd knocked a guy or two off balance to give the others more of a shot, and gotten a bruised shin and damaged pride for my troubles.

"They can't hurt us too badly," I said, trying to get Tiger to stop _pacing_. "He'll come back bruised up, nothing more."

"Oh, because you're such an expert," Tiger responded, running a hand through his hair.

"The SAS isn't going to be very effective if one of their entire bases is laid up with post-RTI injuries for two weeks at a time every rotation," I deadpanned, stretching out my legs and trying to get comfortable.

The logic of that statement seemed to calm Tiger somewhat, but he didn't stop pacing.

Lion clapped me on the shoulder and asked, "How you holding up, rookie?"

I almost smiled. If only they knew. "Fine. Bit peaky."

"We got the bloody comedian," Tiger said. "Outstanding."

At that moment, the Green Jackets thrust open the door and tossed Bear inside, shivering and dripping wet, a bit bruised up, but okay.

After the Green Jackets left, Tiger dropped to his knees beside Bear, hand on his shoulder. Lion sat up straighter, his face pinched in concern. "Henry?"

Henry. Was that Bear's real name?

"I'm g-good." Bear held up a shaking thumbs up, rolling over onto his back. "I'm just—gonna sleep a while. Yeah, I'll just t-t-take a nap."

Tiger dropped his head, exhaling in relief, and patted Bear's shoulder, dragging him over the wall and pillowing his head with his outer shirt. "Damn kid. Giving me a heart attack."

Lion lightly patted Bear's chest with a smile. "Rest up. They'll be back soon."

I looked away. It seemed like a moment I shouldn't have been there for, anyways.

…

They took Tiger and brought him back with similar results, but with a bit more bruising minus the sopping wet part. Then they took me.

I went willingly. If it was just an exercise, I didn't have much to worry about.

After all, after being drugged, unable to move on a conveyor belt taking me inch by inch towards a sugar cane crusher, a few punches and some cold water seemed to pale in comparison.

We walked across the camp a bit, my bare feet scraped and caked in mud, freezing cold by the time we got there. They threw me down as soon as we were inside, only to haul me back up and snap my wrists in handcuffs wound above a pole stretching parallel to the ceiling.

I wasn't particularly tall, so the position was more than uncomfortable, only the tips of my toes brushing the ground. My shoulders were already feeling the strain.

"What've we got here?" A familiar voice asked. I looked around the poorly lit room to see the leader from earlier, watching interestedly. "You look even younger in proper lighting. How old are you, kid?"

I smirked, lifting my chin. Resistance to interrogation meant no letting a single piece of information slip. "Old enough to realize what a shoddy trick that was."

One of the goons sent a fist into my stomach. It wasn't a love tap, for sure. It knocked the breath from my lungs, and I couldn't double over or catch my breath. I coughed, sucking in air as soon as my spasming lungs were able, heart clenching.

"You've got a mouth on you," the leader said, leaving his position to stand in front of me. "Your friends didn't talk, but I've got a feeling you'll do me the honor."

"Bite me," I said, spitting at his feet.

My heart was pounding, my head was light, and fear was coursing through me. But at least, in this situation, I had the comfort of knowing it wasn't real.

_It's not real. It's not real. It's not real_.

The man smirked. "Because you asked so nicely."

The man held out his hand, and then a goon plopped a taser into it.

Oh.

Oh _shit_.

"Wait," I said, eyeing the device. "This is RTI, right? I have a heart condition. It's in my file."

The man hesitated for a second, then smirked. "Good one, chief. Almost got me."

And with that, turned the thing on and shoved it into my ribs.

I'd been actually electrocuted before—which was a lot worse—but apparently, being tased sucked, too.

The electricity flowed from the spot on my stomach through my throbbing fingertips and pounding head, sparking life in my numb toes and burning every fiber of my body. I screamed through clenched teeth, my jaw locked from the current.

It couldn't have been more than a few seconds before he pulled it away, but that was enough to send my heart into panic mode.

It was beating out of control, weak and thready and all over the place, and I was starting to get a little nervous that it might actually lead to an arrythmia or something worse.

"Feel…my pulse," I managed, panting from the strain on my arms and trying to get my body to stop twitching, my head hanging low. "My heart…it isn't—"

"What's your name, kid?" He asked, unrelenting. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head up. I grunted at the pressure, teeth clenched, and opened my eyes. His form was blurry, swimming in and out of focus. "Name, rank, and unit ID, and I'll let you walk."

I heaved a deep breath, realizing I wasn't going to get anywhere. "I'm serious. I'm…sensitive to…trauma and electricity…"

The man's eyebrows furrowed, and he dropped my head. "Somebody check the kid's file."

Someone responded and left the room, and I exhaled in relief. Surely they wouldn't—

A fist hit me square in the jaw, and my head snapped back. I fought to keep my balance on my toes, spitting a glob of blood and saliva to the side. "You're wasting…your time," I said, my teeth bared in a bloody grin.

Someone hustled back in, crinkling papers in hand. "It's true, Gray. Heart condition."

The leader—Gray—swore. "Fine, take him back. Bring the last one." Gray fixed his steely eyes on me and said, "This isn't over, kid. You have an hour to rest up, then I'm coming back for you."

They unhooked my wrists and dragged me away. I decided not to shout anything back, instead trying to keep my numb feet under me as they dragged me through the mud, my heart and chest throbbing with every step.

They unlocked the door and threw me inside, where I landed in a heap. It felt too nice to move right away.

"Keep an eye on him," one of the Green Jackets said, tone flat. "We didn't know he had a heart condition, and tasered him. He starts dying or anything, bang on the door."

And they left, taking Lion with them.

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe deeply, trying to slow the beating of my heart.

I was scared.

Punches, threats, beatings—I was fine. I could hold out. But my own body? Not being able to control my heart, or when it chose to beat or give out on me?

I was _terrified_.

My hands shook.

"Oi," Bear's voice floated over my head, and a hand came to rest on my shoulder. "Lay on your back, Jaguar, it'll be easier to breathe."

I did as he said—with a little help from him—and breathed as deeply as I could, trying to will my heartbeat to slow down. I heard him whisper something to Tiger, who scooted over, and then my head was being lifted and pillowed on something—a jacket? A shirt?

Did Tiger just give me his shirt for a pillow?

Good God, miracles _did_ happen.

Bear's cold fingers found my neck and I flinched, but he pressed them against my jugular and waited. I felt my pulse thrumming frantically under his fingertips, and focused on breathing.

"You're alright, kid," Bear said, keeping his fingers in place. "It's alright. It's already evening out."

I gave a terse nod and swallowed, trying to open my eyes, but the headache pounding behind my head was too much.

"Sleep some, alright? That'll help."

Nodding again, I exhaled shakily.

It took a few minutes, but the terror fled, replaced with utter exhaustion, and I slept.

…

I couldn't have woken more than an hour or so later, because Lion was freshly back with some cuts and bruises—sopping wet like Bear—but otherwise okay.

My head was still pillowed on Tiger's shirt, and my breath clouded a bit when I breathed out, opening my bleary eyes.

"He lives," Bear joked, scooting over to my side. "How do you feel?"

"Alive," I responded tersely, grabbing at my left shoulder when I tried to sit up and it gave an uncomfortable pull. Bear put a steadying hand on my shoulder as I did so, waiting until I was steady. "Bit twitchy."

"Electrocution will do that, unfortunately," Lion said with a smile, though he was shivering up a storm, himself.

Glancing back, I carefully lifted the shirt, looking at it for a minute before handing it back to Tiger. I'd surprised him; he glanced at me from where he'd been staring at a spot on the wall, belatedly reaching for it.

"Thank you," I told him, as sincerely as I could.

He seemed startled that I was actually making eye contact with him for a purpose other than to insult him, but he took the shirt with a nod, slipping it back on.

"Look at them, getting along," Lion said with a teasing tone, a grin on his face.

Bear gave a little laugh, saying, "It's okay, Jaguar. Tiger's actually just a ball of fluff when you get to know him."

Tiger's eyebrow twitched. "I'll hit you, Bear. Don't think I won't."

I was unable to keep a little smile off my face. I opened my mouth to respond—

-and the door caved in, right on time.

Ten or so Green Jackets flooded the room, seizing each of us before we could react. If I'd been at full strength there wouldn't have been a problem, but my chest was still throbbing.

"String up the little one," I recognized the voice of the leader—Gray—before he came into the room. "Let's see how much your new unit really values you, kiddo."

I almost spat something along the lines of _not very much, so you're wasting your time_, but that seemed pretty rude considering the almost genuine moment of camaraderie we'd just shared.

I didn't fight as they again shackled my hands above my head, the pull on my left shoulder agonizing. I tried to wipe my face clear of emotions, but I knew they could tell I was in pain.

"Oi, don't you think this is a little dirty?" Lion asked with a smirk, but I could see the worry in his eyes. "In a fair fight—"

He was cut off by a brutal hit to his midsection, coughing and sagging in his captor's grip for a second. Tiger growled and jerked at the hands holding him, as did Bear, but it had little effect. With as beaten and battered as we all were, they weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

Gray turned back to me, and I did my best to left my chin with the strain on my upper body. "Gonna zap me again?"

Gray quirked a smile. "No. Too much bloody paperwork if you bite it. There are other ways I can get my information."

He punctuated the sentiment with a fist to my mouth, snapping my head back. My brain rattled in my skull, and I could feel my earlier split lip reopening, blood running down my chin, staining my teeth.

"Names, ranks, unit ID, and any other valuable information you can think of, and this stops," Gray said, turning to the other three. "Otherwise I keep beating on the kid."

My eyes narrowed, and I spat to the side. It was a good psychological tactic—I was the youngest of the group, and generally, the youngest members of any community were the most protected. It was a natural law, even among animals.

I smiled wryly at that.

"Cut his shirt off. I want them to see every hit the kid takes, understood?"

Wait.

No. They couldn't—they could _not_ see—

Someone came at me with a switchblade, eyes determined. "You behave and I won't cut anywhere I'm not supposed to, okay, kid?"

Needless to say, once he was within range, I leveraged my battered body up as far as I could and kicked him straight in the chest.

He collapsed back, the wind knocked out of him, and the switchblade went skittering across the ground.

"For hell's sake," Gray muttered, marching over to me. I tried to the trick, this time laced with desperation, but his just caught my ankle and pushed my leg back down. He was too close for my kicks to do any damage. "I'll do it my bloody self."

"No, _don't_," I yelled, caving into the fear squirming in the put of my stomach. "_Don't_—"

I was in a cotton t-shirt that I had only to sleep in. It wasn't meant for durability or strength, just sleeping. So when Gray wrapped his fist around the collar and tore it straight off, there was no resistance.

The entire cabin went eerily silent, only my heaving breaths audible.

I felt the humiliation take hold, my neck and face and ears turning red as I grit my teeth and stared at the floor, absolutely unwilling to let this maniac see me cry, though it's all I wanted to do.

Nobody—_nobody—_was supposed to see…this.

"Jaguar?" Bear's voice, hesitant and dare I say gentle.

I didn't want his bloody pity.

"Well," Gray said, eyes raking up and down my prone body slowly enough to make me shiver, "looks like someone worked you over real good, kid. How are you alive?"

I didn't respond.

My head was pounding with embarrassment, anger and hatred simmering beneath it. Gray turned from me and started talking-threatening, taunting, I don't know-but this was the most humiliated and ashamed I had felt in a long time, and it was taking its toll.

Hell was going to have to freeze over before I took this lying down.

"Hey," I muttered when he kept blabbering at the rest of my unit. "Gray, right? That's your name?"

Gray turned halfway back to me, eyes dark. "What about it, half-pint?"

"Come here and I'll tell you what you want."

I saw a lot of eyes widen, namely those of my unit-mates. "Jaguar, do _not_ compromise this mission," Lion said, his voice even and firm. He earned another gut punch for his troubles.

I didn't look at him, though. I just kept my eyes on Gray, going for sincere. Resigned. Defeated. "Please. I promise."

Gray took a few steps forward, just a couple feet from me. "Well?"

"Closer," I said, giving a furtive glance towards my unit. "I don't want them to hear what I'm going to tell you."

Gray raised an eyebrow, but leaned in closer, turning his head so his ear was only a couple inches from my face. "Hey," I said again, and wondering what I wanted, he turned his face just slightly towards me.

As soon as he did so, I snapped my head forward in a vicious headbutt that had me seeing stars.

I heard the shouts of alarm and surprise from the other occupants in the room, but my head was still clearing from the dizzying escapade. I saw Gray's blurry outline; he was clutching his nose for all he was worth, and one side of his face as already darkening red.

"My message," I said, spitting to the side again, "is for you book yourself a one-way ticket to hell."

Gray's eyes narrowed comically above his hand, which covered half of his face. Blood leaked between his fingers, staining his pristine green jacket.

Bear laughed. "I think I'm starting to like you, Jaguar."

Somebody smacked him for that, but his words sent a flutter of warmth through my shivering body.

It didn't last long.

"I might actually kill you for that," Gray said quietly, flicking his hand to the side, droplets of blood staining the wall beside him. "You, or one of you unit mates. How would that feel, _Jaguar_? Would you like to watch that, you little _bastard_?"

"No," I admitted, steeling myself as he ambled closer to me, my vision finally clearing. "But I'll watch it happen to you, arsehole."

In the commotion, when no one's eyes were on me, I'd worked the loose nail I'd found sticking out of one of the doors out of my grip and into one of the handcuffs. Finally, now that he was close enough to attack, I twisted it, one shackle coming loose. I dropped to the floor in a crouch and rolled away, my shoulders aching in protest.

I tossed the bloody nail aside and looked at the handcuffs dangling from my wrist, grinning up at Gray's mortified expression. "If you tell me to resist interrogation," I said, standing and lowering myself into a defensive crouch, "then bloody hell, I'm going to _resist_. You understand?"

"Get him," Gray growled, and the unoccupied Green Jackets charged at me. Through the tangle of limbs and bodies headed my way, I got a glimpse of my unit mates fighting back, as well. I had just enough time to see Tiger shake one off enough to clock him with a sucker punch before I was lost in my own fight, but I was glad they'd gotten the message.

I had been held and tortured for information far too many times to think that waiting it out was a good idea.

I heard someone yell about getting the Sergeant, but I was too locked in my own fight to care much. Three of them were coming at me, a chaotic tussle of hands and feet and vicious jabs and hits. I took more than I gave, regrettably, but I gave enough to keep them back.

Someone finally caught me on the left side, just above my heart, and the pain was _blinding_.

I went down with a cry, my hands instinctively going to my chest, and curled in on myself to protect what I could from the kicks that followed. I heard my name shouted—well, Jaguar, anyways—but the pain was too blinding to do much of anything about it.

Suddenly, the kicks stopped.

A booming voice, one that reverberated through entire little shack, shouted, "What the _devil_ is going on here?"

Gasping in one breath after the other, trying to maintain consciousness, I almost missed the hands that grabbed my shoulders and hauled me to my knees. The support vanished and I collapsed back on my heels, steadying myself with my hands on the ground.

The Sergeant stood in the doorway, and even in his sleepwear, he looked like a General straight out of a warzone.

"This one," Gray spat, punctuating the statement by fisting a hand in my hair and yanking my head up, "decided he would be a cheeky little _shit_ and fight back, and now half my guys are going to the infirmary straight after they leave here."

The passing look of confusion, the look of understanding, and the absolute face of _rage_ that finally settled on the Sergeant's face was downright comical.

"Lieutenant Gray," he growled, his beefy arms folded across his chest as he stalked right up to the man, dwarfing him by the sheer look of anger on his face, "are you telling me that you had one of your men run to my barracks _screaming_ like the base was being bloody mutilated—to tell me that _you_ and _your men_ couldn't handle the retaliation of one kid—WHO ISN'T EVEN LEGAL TO _DRINK_ YET?!"

Throughout the tirade, Gray's face had slowly lost its color, and he was looking a bit—well, gray. "S-sir, I—"

"Get out of here," the Sergeant said, pointing at the door. "You _ever_ pull a stunt like that again, you're officially relieved of service for the British Special Air Service Forces. Do I make myself _perfectly_ clear, soldier?"

"Y-yes, sir," Gray stuttered, the once impressive man reduced to a shaking mess as he and his men ran out with their proverbial tails between their legs. More then a few of them were limping and stumbling under their own weight, and I couldn't help but feel a bit of vindictive pride.

I dropped my head, heaving in a breath as my ribs creaked under my own weight, shutting my eyes against the dizzying light.

"Men. Explain, _now_."

There was a beat of silence, before Lion stood—painfully, from the sounds of it—and said, "Yes, sir. We were participating in the scheduled RTI session, sir, and—"

"It was…my fault," I heaved, taking a stuttering breath before wobbling to my feet, swaying a bit before steadying. Bear was slouched against the wall, but despite the slump of his frame, his eyes were bright. Tiger wasn't much better, but his posture was energized, coiled tight in expectance of another hit. Lion hadn't fared too well, either, but the reluctant acceptance I thought he'd show was replaced instead by…wait, was that _pride_?

I attributed it to a trick of the light and the nauseating swaying of my vision.

"You see, sir," I said, lifting my chin and staring the Sergeant in the eye, "when I was told that this was RTI, I took it to mean an exercise in resisting interrogation that was meant to simulate an experience we might have as prisoners of war." Taking a steadying breath, stumbling a bit, I said, "In that situation, I wouldn't have waited for the exercise to be over. I would have waited for an opening, and escaped."

"You call this escaping? You all look like you were three rounds with a heavyweight champ."

I quirked a smile, but a violent shiver reminded me of just how exposed I was, and I couldn't help but look down, mortified by my scars, the bumps and ridges that covered every inch of my torso. "With all due respect, sir, the opposition didn't leave unscathed."

The Sergeant raised an eyebrow, but sighed nonetheless. "I suppose that's true." Then, surprisingly enough, he smiled. "You're the first unit to every really fight back like this. Color me impressed, gentlemen. Gray's a piece of work, no doubt, but I've never seen him quite this riled up." He smiled a little, looking back at Lion and the others. "Take tomorrow off."

I couldn't quite help the way my eyes widened in surprise. "Sir?"

"You out-performed every other unit in the exercise. Even now, most of them are probably letting themselves be beaten senseless, waiting it out. But like you said, real life isn't going to be like that. You're going to have to make your own escape." He looked me up and down, his eyes settling on my chest, and I crossed my arms pointedly. With the practice of only a trained soldier, he hid his surprise and continued talking. "It doesn't look like it worked out so well this time, but I get the feeling you'll improve. What happened there, Jaguar?"

The question was slipped so seamlessly into the conversation that I barely noticed it. I kept eye contact with him only because I couldn't bear myself to look towards my unit mates. "Nothing from tonight, sir."

The Sergeant heard the finality in my voice and gave up, nodding. "Get some rest, men. Day after tomorrow, I expect you back to training."

Tiger heaved Bear off the floor, supporting him with an arm around his waist, and the two of them limped out of the shack after a nod in the Sergeant's direction. Lion followed, his eyes lingering on me a moment. I nodded at him to let him know I'd be coming.

I scooped the remains of my shirt off the ground and shrugged it on, pulling it closed in the front in a shabby attempt to cover the scars everyone had already bloody seen.

"Jaguar."

The Sergeant's rumbling voice stopped me in the doorway, and I gave half a glance back.

"Those are some war wounds, boy."

I didn't know how to respond, so I fell back on the simple safety of a, "Yes, sir."

"You have a unit for a reason," I twitched at his words, lowering my eyes. "and it's not to stand there and look pretty. You can rely on them."

I didn't respond for a second. "Will that be all, sir?"

"How's your kill-shot coming along?"

I turned fully, then, trying to wipe the questioning expression from my face. "It's…better, sir. I'm making progress."

The Sergeant nodded thoughtfully, stooping to the ground and picking something up, rolling it between his fingers. "You're promising, Jaguar. You have talent and intellect that a lot of men don't have at the end of their tours." He tossed the object at me, and I caught it clumsily.

It was the bloodied nail I'd used to pick the lock on my handcuff.

"You're resourceful, too. I'll give you that. But if you keep trying to go it alone, one or more of you is going to come home in a body bag. You understand me?"

I flinched. "Sir, I—"

"Dismissed, Jaguar."

Hesitantly, I nodded, and left.

…

I opened the cabin door, stepped inside, and walked directly to my bed, collapsing into the sheets. I rolled away from them, massaging my left shoulder and cataloging every ache and pain in my body, deeming them all superficial enough to leave until morning.

I felt three pairs of eyes follow my every step, and said, "I'm not answering any questions. I'm going to sleep." I pulled the blanket up to my shoulders, relishing in the absolute comfort of knowing they couldn't see the scars anymore.

There was silence for a moment, and then the light was turned out. "We'll ask tomorrow, then." Lion's voice.

I didn't answer.

_You have a unit for a reason, and it's not to stand there and look pretty._

_You can rely on them_.

Closing my eyes, drifting to sleep, I thought about it. A folded up shirt from Tiger—the pride in Lion's eyes when I fought back and stood up to Gray and the Sergeant—

_I think I'm starting to like you, Jaguar._ Courtesy of Bear.

Even amidst the shivering and the shaking that had little to do with the cold or the pain, I managed a smile.

I thought maybe I was starting to like them, too.

However dangerous it was.

**A/N: Well it took a lot of hurt, but I hit the comfort (ish) eventually! Next chapter is when the healing ****_really_**** starts, but we got a teaser, at least. **

**Also, I am SO sorry for the excessive wait; I've been trying to focus on my Avengers fics. But I'm super happy with the way this one is turning out!**

**Again, thank you to my beautiful reviewers: jawswing96, Gerdiena, Em0Wolf, pletchko, VINAI, Guest, 627-OrganizedChaos, CuteFishy, and oldminnie! And to everyone following and who's favorited, thanks so much for your support!**

**Guest: No he didn't…that wouldn't have been good XD and lol it's L-Unit but same difference **

**Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!**


	6. Chapter 5

I was up and gone before the sun.

I'd gotten some sleep, but the nightmares had started soon after. Having my scars exposed, being restrained and tormented for information—it brought back too many memories for my already fragile psyche to healthily process.

I'd shot up in bed, panting, sweating, gasping for air like my life depended on it.

After a second, I realized where I was, clamping my hands over my mouth. Luckily, though, the other three were exhausted, as well. All I got was some movement from Lion, and then the cabin was silent and still once more. Aside from Bear's incessant snoring.

I breathed a shaky sigh of relief, getting out of bed and changing out of the sweat-soaked clothing. I tried to avoid the creaky floorboards, but I could only do so much so off-balance. My entire body was positively _throbbing_.

I grabbed my toiletries and headed to the showers, pulling the curtain closed and turning the faucet on. I relished the privacy. I usually took showers in the middle of the night, anyways—to avoid anyone seeing my scars (which was so freaking pointless now)—but most of them were still participating in RTI, anyways, so I was extra sure no one would walk in on me.

I took my time enjoying the rarity of hot water all to myself, scrubbing away the dirt and blood and sweat caked on my skin. The scratches and cuts bled sluggishly as the fresh scabs peeled away, and the hot water stung. The bruises littering my skin were dark and painful. I'd have to wrap my ribs at some point.

Clenching my jaw, in a burst of anger, I slammed my fist into the side of the shower stall, panting.

Great. A couple split knuckles to add to that list.

I panted angrily. I couldn't shove it down.

They'd _seen_. All three of them, Gray and his men, the bloody Sergeant. But _those three_, who I'd spend two more years with, if everything went to plan. They'd seen the ridges and bumps, the burns, the scarred cuts and gouges, the—the _bullet_—

I finished showering and threw on my uniform, still shaking.

My hand trembled. There was probably a broken knuckle in there, somewhere. Good thing I'd punched with my nondominant hand.

The sun was just peeking up past the horizon. I saw Green Jackets strolling around, barking orders. One of them looked my way. For a moment, I thought they were going to think I was an escaped RTI prisoner (which, technically, I was) but he just sent a cold glower in my direction and kept walking. I guessed the Sergeant had informed them my unit was to be left alone, then.

I made my way to the range, surprised it was open since there was no training. I'd been finding myself here a lot, lately, working on the bloody headshot.

I felt different, today, though. Stronger. Faster.

Angrier.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

I set up my target as always, starting with the bullseye, and grabbed my gun. I didn't bother with the headphones. I found them stupid, anyways. No one would let you where headphones in a gunfight.

A perfect circle. Not a mark out of place.

Almost throwing it aside, I put up the human target and stalked back to my window as it was drawn down-range, and hefted my gun.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

My scars, this unit…this place…

…my _life_.

I wasn't supposed to _be like this_.

Scarred and scared and young and so angry and hurt and desperate and ashamed and so _utterly_ alone.

I shot, relying purely on this _rage_, the abject _wrongness_ of it all, and drew on the emotions I'd worked so bloody hard to keep hidden from Matthew's expressions.

Matthew didn't bloody _exist_, though!

So Alex took the shot—_I_ took the shots—and with a hoarse yell, I put every ounce of suffering I couldn't carry anymore into every one of those bullets.

And I opened my eyes to find a bloody headshot staring back at me. One perfect circle, in the middle of the target's forehead, where ten bullets had passed through consecutively. There was no overlay.

Just one circle. I lowered the gun.

I realized I was panting again.

"That was quite a show."

It was purely exhaustion that kept me from spinning around, empty gun up and ready to fire at whoever the hell was dumb enough to sneak up on me.

"Yeah? Well, it's a private party." I grabbed another clip. "Thought you'd be enjoying your day off."

Tiger scoffed, walking further into the room. I noticed him favoring his left side. "Nothing to do. Bear and Lion are still dead to the world. Like I thought you'd be."

I shoved the clip into the gun with more force than was strictly necessary, hissing at the pain that flared in my ribs and knuckles. "Does this conversation have a point, Tiger?"

"Well, the point is about to be my foot up your ass, you keep mouthing off like that. I can't even have a conversation with you?"

"I don't recall you wanting to before," I muttered, hefting the gun and lining it up. I took a test shot, aiming for the brachial artery, and was pleased to see a clean hit. "If you're gonna shoot, shoot. If not, leave me alone."

I heard Tiger scoff again, muttering some unflattering expletives before grabbing a gun off the rack and claiming the window beside me.

I almost griped about how that wasn't an invitation, but I didn't, because it kind of was. Dammit.

"Jaguar—"

I fired off the rest of the clip, cutting him off.

Lowering the gun, I narrowed my eyes.

Having him here was unsettling. I'd gotten the brachial artery again, and the femoral vein was manageable, but all my other shots were a little wide. I was at least glad to see I'd hit the head of the target, but it was far from a kill shot.

A beat of silence let the reverberations die down, and Tiger said, "You're getting better." He peered over, his brow furrowing. "Even with a busted hand. When'd that happen?"

"Why are you _here_?" I finally snapped, slamming the empty gun on the window.

Tiger's eyes narrowed. "You don't make anything easy, do you, brat?"

I scoffed, grabbing my gun and turning away. I shoved it back on the rack, closing and locking the glass door, and headed for the exit.

"Bloody hell, Jaguar. I'm _sorry_."

I stopped short, because of all the obscenities I imagined would come out of Tiger's mouth, that last phrase wasn't among them.

"I'm sorry I've been…well, an arse. You're annoying as hell—and you never know when to stop _bloody_ talking—but…I haven't exactly been a sunflower, either."

There was a second of silence. Someone shouted in the distance.

I curled my hands into fists, my left one screaming as the split knuckles reopened. "The _hell_ is your problem?"

Even without looking at him, I could practically feel Tiger's posture stiffen. That wasn't what he'd expected, either. "Seriously? I just—"

Whirling around, stalking up to him, I fisted my hands in his shirt and shoved him against the wall. Maybe a little harder than I should've, but he'd be fine. He was a few inches taller than me, and his build was impressive…but my strength was nothing to scoff at, and the adrenaline buzzing through my body made it easy to pin him. "Is this a _joke_ to you? You think I want your pity now? Just because you saw—"

I cut myself off. I couldn't bring myself to say it.

Tiger's mouth was drawn up in an ugly, challenging snarl, but as soon as the words left my mouth, something loosened in his expression. "What? No. Get off me, brat."

With a shove, I let him go, stalking back to the table. I steadied myself on it as the world swayed around me, but there was enough anger in me to keep me upright. "Screw you, Tiger."

"If you'd _listen_ a damn second," Tiger spat, "maybe you'd be able to get it through your thick skull that I'm not giving you pity. I'm—" Tiger sighed, and I heard him scratch the back of his head, hissing at the pull on his ribs. "I'm trying to—shit. I'm telling you you've got my _respect_. Not my pity."

That threw me.

"I've—_what_?" I asked incredulously, barely turning my head to look at him out of my periphery. My legs were shaking. "You _hate_ me. You think I'm gonna get us all killed, remember? Why the hell would you want to give me your _respect_?"

Tiger sighed, exasperated. "For the love of—you don't give _up_, do you? I'll be the first to admit it—when the Sergeant said you'd be joining our unit, I thought I'd be coming home in a body bag. Face it, Jaguar, you don't look like a soldier. And you—you're so damn _secretive_ all the time, it was bloody hard to think you weren't something like a spy for an enemy!" I flinched, but he didn't see, and kept going. "So, yeah—I was an arse, because I thought you'd get me and my brothers killed. Either because you were on the wrong side, or because you were a stupid kid with a fantasy of coming home a hero who had _no idea_ what a war was like. What it means to—"

He cut himself off with a grunt, running a hand through his short hair. "But I know I'm wrong now. You've—you've seen some shit, kid."

Heaving a deep breath, I let myself collapse into the chair, my legs finally unable to support me anymore. "Yeah. I've seen some shit. So what?"

"So I've seen some shit, too. So have Lion and Bear. And I know now that you know what it's like to…to go through shit you can't really come back from. At least, not for a long while."

I lowered my eyes. "Your point?"

"I didn't think you were one of us." Tiger shrugged. "I was wrong. And I'm sorry."

I fisted my good hand, exhaustion slumping my shoulders.

He'd just…accepted me.

This wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't want to—

_I didn't come looking for a family_. I'd said that to Lion, and I'd meant it.

But I thought maybe I'd…miscalculated.

Maybe it wasn't just up to me to decide that, and that was the scariest thing about it.

"You look like hell, brat. Let Bear fix you up."

I scoffed, but within was a defeated laugh. "You're no runway model yourself."

I glanced at him, half-afraid of his reaction, but—so unlike Tiger—he was smiling. "I could learn to like you, Dorothy."

I laughed at that, hissing at the pull on my ribs. "Bear was right. You are just a big ball of fluff."

Tiger's eyes darkened, but I could see the amusement in them. "Watch it, brat. I said I could learn, but I'll still kick your ass."

I snorted. "I figured."

Inhaling slowly, I pushed myself up, my legs shaking. I took a step towards the doorway before my legs collapsed under me. _Oh, that was truly awe-inspiring,_ I thought to myself as I fell, feeling my neck heat up. _Way to act like a man. _

I braced myself, thinking I'd hit the ground hard, but suddenly a pair of hands were steadying me. "Damn kid," Tiger's gruff voice said by my head as he pulled one of my arms over his shoulders. "You shouldn't have gotten up if you were like this."

I wasn't…scared.

Tiger had me effectively against his side—he had to, to support the considerable amount of my weight he was taking—and the close contact would normally have me panicking.

But I wasn't scared.

And _that_ scared me, because I could _not_ be actually starting to trust him.

It wasn't an option. It couldn't happen. Him, and Bear, and Lion—if I trusted them, then—

"Bear's going to be fussing over you for days. I don't envy you," Tiger said casually, practically dragging me across the field and towards our cabin. "He's a bouncy little devil, but he's downright neurotic when one of us is hurt."

—then my cover was for nothing.

"Really?" I asked, the exhaustion seeping into my voice.

I let myself lean on Tiger a little more, and he readjusted his hold on me. "You're heavier than you look."

"Sorry," I mumbled, taking some more of my weight back. That was a test. He was just—I don't know, playing it off, or—

"I wasn't saying don't rely on me, idiot. It was an observation."

Scoffing, but smiling, I let some more of my weight go. I was barely standing as it was, anyways.

"You can rely on us. That's what a unit's for."

"Then why'd you try to hard to make me quit?" I asked, my filter a little off with how much pain I was in. I probably shouldn't have asked that, but…too late now.

"Because you weren't in my unit until last night." I snorted, smiling as he continued, "And it wasn't just that I saw that you knew what it was like to go through something big. The way you handled Gray and his guys?" Tiger snorted a laugh. "Priceless, kid. Gray's been around a couple years, and I've never seen him like that. The Sergeant damn near made him wet his pants."

I laughed at the memory. It hurt.

I didn't mind so much.

We were back at the cabin; I'd barely noticed how much ground we'd covered. Tiger kicked the door open with enough force to send Bear rolling out of bed with a thump, flailing in his blankets.

"Wha—no, we had the day off—" He peeked up and saw Tiger depositing me on my bunk, though, and sighed, collapsing back to the ground. "Oh, s'you. I'm going back to sleep."

"You've got enough beauty sleep, Bear, get up." Tiger prodded him with the toe of his boot until Bear opened one eye. "Jaguar needs some medical help."

"What?" Bear asked, seeming more alert. He stretched, yawning, and looked over at me where I sat slumped on my bed, an arm around my middle. "Damn! You're a color palette, Jaguar!"

"Shut up," I muttered, heat flaming in my cheeks.

"What the _hell's_ so noisy," Lion slurred, peeking down from his top bunk. "Day off means sleeping in. Can it."

"His highness could probably use some medical help too, Bear," Tiger grunted with a nod at Lion's bunk.

Lion muttered something unflattering and threw a pair of socks at Tiger. They thunked uselessly off his head, but his expression was pretty funny.

Bear sat down in front of me with a yawn. "Where's it hurt? If you're good I'll give you a lollipop when we're done."

"Screw you, Bear," I muttered, hissing as I held out my hand.

Bear took it gently, examining it with practiced ease. "You didn't get this from the Green Jackets," he said, his usual preschooler-demeanor swapped out for that of a practiced physician. "Your middle and—wait—" He took my ring finger and bent it up ever so slightly.

It freaking _hurt._

Still, I remembered SCO—_their_ techniques for managing pain, and I took a deep breath, staring off in space as he manipulated my hand to see what was wrong. My eye twitched, but otherwise, nothing showed on my face.

"You're a tough cookie, Jaguar," Bear said, pulling out an ACE bandage. "I can't tell for sure without an X-ray, but I think your middle and ring finger knuckles are fractured. They'll heal in a couple weeks as long as you don't punch anymore walls," he said with a pointed look at me.

"Sure," I muttered, flexing my hand. It felt better wrapped, but the ache was still very much there.

"Okay, rib time. Shirt off."

Bear's tone was light, but the cabin was silent after that.

"I'll do that myself," I said, forcing myself not to looking down.

"You could," Bear conceded, pulling another roll of ACE bandages from his bag, "but the support wouldn't be nearly as good as a trained professional doing it."

"You're hardly a trained professional," Lion muttered, but he swung himself begrudgingly down from his bunk and stretched, hissing. "Why don't you do mine first?"

I looked away, then. I knew he was just trying to delay the inevitable, but it wasn't all that helpful.

"Lion," Tiger said quietly, his voice low.

"It's fine."

His tone piqued my interest. I looked up, eyeing Lion's movements as he sat down on Bear's bed, opposite the cabin from me. With practiced ease, Lion slid his shirt off. Bear sat down beside him, eyes cold, and started wrapping his torso.

Lion had scars, too. Not as bad as mine, but…but bad.

Lining his shoulders were rows of raised burns—probably from cigarette butts, if I had to guess. Pale red and white slashes marred his back, stretching even below his waistline. They mostly faded into his skin, but you could see them clearly if you looked for them. On his front were a few cuts, scarred white against his skin. They weren't horribly noticeable, but they weren't inconspicuous, either.

Slowly, a lot of the scars disappeared under the wrappings, but Lion's purpose was the same. I'd been uncomfortable—no, more like unwilling—to show them my scars again. To allow myself to feel that kind of humiliation again. They represented parts of myself and my past I wanted to bury forever, after all.

So Lion had shown me his first.

God, that guy was an amazing leader.

He slipped his shirt back over his head and smiled in my direction. I looked away. "My dad was a drunk, to put things simply. Ran away with my sister when I was sixteen; jumped between odd jobs and friends' houses before I finally decided to go for Selection a few years ago after she got married. The rest is history," he finished with a shrug.

I paused.

Geez, how could I go against _that_ display?

"I can't…I can't tell you where they're from," I prefaced, fisting my good hand.

Lion nodded. "Okay."

Heaving a breath and closing my eyes, I took off my shirt and waited.

The only things that happened next were Tiger's glance, Lion's smile, and Bear's ministrations as he wrapped my ribs with clinical detachment. I felt heat flaming in my cheeks and neck and ears, the blanket fisted in my good hand for all I was worth, and it had nothing to do with the pain.

Bear wrapped them gently, trying not to jostle me too much as he tightened the fabric around my waistline. It was smooth going until he reached halfway up my chest, fastening the wrap tightly with a pin. His eyes lingered on the quarter-sized scar just above my heart.

"Jaguar—"

"I can't tell you where it's from," I repeated, shaking my head. My hands were shaking. I was utterly exposed, and so utterly vulnerable, and I hated it with every fiber of my being. "Don't ask. Please."

Tiger's eyes had slid over, and so had Lion's, at the tone of his voice. They saw the same thing.

Tiger's eyes widened—a bit out of character for him—in time as Lion's darkened.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Lion conceded, "but that doesn't look like something you get just hanging around."

I tugged on my shirt, feeling extraordinarily better with my body covered. "It wasn't."

Lion sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Kid, I…look, I get it. You don't know us very well yet, and that's fine. When you do…" he shrugged. "We'll listen. Yeah?"

Hesitantly, I nodded. I figured that was the best I was going to get given the circumstances. "Okay."

Bear looked around, eyes settling on Tiger. "Your turn, Tiger. Then I'm going back to sleep and none of you can stop me."

"I sure as hell can, pipsqueak," Tiger growled, shoving Bear down on his bed with a thump. "You need to wrap yours too, dimwit. Gimme that." He snatched the bandages out of Bear's hand and set to work on the medic, much to Bear's chagrin.

"Why do you always call me names?" Bear whined. "I'm like a foot taller than you. _Ow_!"

Tiger smacked him on the back of the head. "Height didn't save you from that."

"Tiger, you're supposed to be fixing him," Lion cajoled, but there was a smile in his voice.

I smiled faintly and laid down, tugging the covers over my shoulders and burrowing into the blankets. It felt nice to not be expected to get up and do anything for a day. The sounds of the other three teasing each other was still loud in my ears, but it wasn't the worst sound to fall asleep to.

I drifted off, relishing the feeling of warmth. And I could be kind of sure, at least for today, that I was…somewhat safe.

Never completely safe. That kind of thinking would get me killed.

But somewhat was a step in the right direction.

…

I woke a few hours later, stretching, and saw a plate on the table at the front of the room, piled high with questionable food from the mess. My brow furrowed…that kind of worried me. Usually, I woke at the slightest noise, especially the sound of a door. Had I really slept through someone coming and going out of the creaky old cabin?

I was getting too comfortable here.

"We thought you'd be hungry," Tiger's voice startled me from his bunk, and _dammit_, I did _not_ need to be startled anymore today. "It's shit as usual, though."

"Thanks," I said, claiming the plate and sitting back on my bunk. I spooned some of the stuff into my mouth, regretting it instantly, but I forced myself to keep eating. Bloody hell, this was some awful food.

"Lion and Bear went for a walk," he said, flipping a page in his book. It was in German. "Bear was getting stir-crazy, so the resident babysitter took him out."

I hummed in acknowledgement, continuing to eat.

"What did you think?" Tiger asked quietly, and it was a new tone from the man; I'd never heard him sound so…hesitant. "About Lion's scars."

I stilled, looking down. I was glad Tiger couldn't see me from where I was hidden by Lion's top bunk, leaning against the wall behind the head of my own bed. "That he's seen some shit, too. And that he's…a damn good leader."

Tiger snorted, then chuckled quietly. "Yeah. Yeah, you've got that right."

I fished a book out of my duffle after I finished eating—it was a book in Russian Ian had given me after one of our trips, about a compilation of Russian folk tales. Tiger and I read in silence. The unspoken companionship was…nice.

Nice, and…uncomfortable for me.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

"We're back," Bear yelled, kicking the door open with a grin.

I'd heard their footsteps creaking on the steps outside, so I was expecting it. Tiger, though, jumped out of his skin, damn near falling off the bunk, and threw his book at Bear. "Damn you. You're _trying_ to kill me."

Lion followed close behind, shutting the door carefully behind him. "Well, you're quite fragile, Tiger."

Tiger flipped him off. I smiled.

"Now that we're all semi-functioning, let's play a card game or something," Bear said, fishing a stack of cards out of his duffle. "I don't want to sit around all day."

"Poker?" Lion suggested, sitting down cross-legged at the table in the open space at the front of the cabin. "We haven't played in a while. I think I have some chocolate left from my sister…" He poked around in his duffle bag before smirking. "Yep, I got it."

He pulled out a bag of candy and tossed it on the table. I snorted. Geez, they were just like primary-schoolers.

"Well, shit, I have to play if I have a shot at getting some of that," Tiger conceded, a predatory grin on his face.

"Tiger, you suck at poker," Bear said with a grin. "This is gonna be like taking candy from a baby."

"You _are_ taking candy from a baby," Lion joked.

Tiger cussed at him, and they laughed.

I smiled slightly, turning a page in my book. They were ridiculous. If the British could see their elite soldiers now…

"Jaguar, you coming?"

I started at my name, peering over my book. It was Lion who'd spoken, and he was looking at me expectantly. Bear wasn't, making a big show of shuffling the cards, but I could tell he was paying attention. Tiger was looking at me, too.

"I—uh, I'll pass."

An automatic response. An attempt to distance myself.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

This unit—my _life_.

I deserved more, didn't I? I'd _earned_ more.

I caught a helpless shrug from Lion and Tiger's pinched expression, Bear's slumped shoulders.

_Screw it_.

I—

I deserved to be happy too, _dammit_. I deserved that much.

It was all my fault. Not my parents and Ian—I'd had nothing to do with their deaths, and I wasn't so egotistical as to think I did—but…Jack, Yassen, S-Sabina…even bloody _Ash_…were all undeniably at least partially my fault.

But I was sixteen years old and damn the whole bloody world, even after my mistakes—things I'd done that I'd been undoubtedly pushed into doing—I deserved to be _bloody_ happy.

I at least deserved a chance.

Making a show of sighing, closing my book and putting it down, I sat up, minding my ribs. I shot them a smirk, saying, "It wouldn't be much of a game if I did."

Tiger eyed me, grinning. "Those are some fighting words, brat."

I limped over, plopping myself down at the unoccupied corner of the table. "Then I guess I'll have to put my money where my mouth is. Deal me in, Bear."

Bear laughed, dealing the hand, and Lion smirked at me.

"None of you are getting my candy," Lion said calmly, lighting a cigarette and spreading his cards in his hand. "I hope you've made your peace with that."

"Tiger isn't, but I think Jaguar and I have a shot," Bear said, eyeing the chocolates with nothing short of lust.

"Brats," Tiger scoffed, propping his chin in his hand. "Jaguar, your move."

I had the Queen of hearts and a three of spades in my hand. On the table were the Queen of diamonds, the six of hearts, and the three of clubs.

I kept my poker face, but I had a damn good shot at a full house with that lineup. "I raise."

"Already?" Bear complained, looking at his pot. "Geez, you're hardcore."

The game continued on. Unsurprising, I won. Tiger lost miserably (as expected; the man couldn't keep a poker face to save his life) and Bear was just barely ahead of him. Lion gave me some trouble, but he'd expected me not to see through his bluffs. Which, of course, I did.

They demanded a rematch. Well, Lion did. He really prized his sister's chocolate.

We ended up playing for the rest of the day and splitting the candy evenly among us, though Lion and I were the only ones to ever actually win a round. The day was…nice. Enjoyable, even.

_I didn't come looking for a family_. I'd been honest with Lion. I didn't.

I had a feeling, though—dare I say a hope—that I may had found the beginnings of one anyways.

**A/N: Ohhhh look at that, another chapter so soon! I'm not going to lie I was really excited to write that scene between Tiger and Alex, so…yeah I just had to get it out :) let me know what you thought!**

**As always, thanks to my reviewers: Gerdiena, Thalia-Seren, OnlyABookwork, Guest, Guest, Em0Wolf, Owlqueen08, and otterpineapple06!**

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	7. Chapter 6

Well, the day was finally here. Active duty.

I shouldn't have been so nervous. I _lived_ in active duty.

"Ready, rookie?" Lion asked, tousling my hair before I could stop him. Bloody hated it when he did that, and he knew it.

I glared in his direction. "Sure. No big deal."

"See? Told you he'd be fine. Tiger, you owe me twenty."

Tiger rolled his eyes, and I smirked. "What, still no faith in me?"

"I don't care how many bloody headshots you shoot, and I don't care how many dumbass lieutenants you spook, and I don't care that you're officially in the unit. Until I see you in action, I'm not buying a thing."

I huffed a laugh. "Fair enough."

"Oi," the Sergeant called from the front of the cabin with the briefing rooms. "Quit lollygagging, damn gossiping teenagers. Get in here."

We sped up. An angry Sergeant Callaway wasn't someone to mess with.

The briefing room was a step up from the other cabins, with oak paneling and a sophisticated smartboard, real chairs instead of folding chairs and a mahogany table in the center. We sat in the offered chairs behind the table, Sergeant Callaway in front of the projection. Another man stood towards the corner, holding a briefcase and waiting expectantly.

"Alright, men," the Sergeant said, flicking his eyes to me, "and boy."

Tiger coughed, but it sounded like he hid a snort. I fought to keep from rolling my eyes.

"I'm giving you something simple for your first mission to test the waters as a new unit," he said, suddenly all business. "You'll be transporting a package to testify against a terrorist we've captured. You'll be transporting him from Paris to Kiev. The drive time is about twenty-four hours; you'll stop in Warsaw for the night with the package. It's fifteen hours from Paris to Warsaw, so you'll drive in shifts. Lion, you're on point. Tiger, you'll be negotiating with the locals, should the need arise, but I'd like you to keep that to a minimum. Bear, visit the medical barracks after this; they're putting a kit together for you. Jaguar, visit the armory for the unit's weapons.

"You'll be provided a standard military Jeep with the usual bells and whistles; Jaguar, the others will fill you in. Now, the package."

Displayed on the screen flickered to life the image of a man grinning at the camera, in a striped jumpsuit with an identification number in his hands. He reminded me of a shark, the way his teeth were bared. His eyes were dark and small, and the look of him made me altogether uncomfortable. It felt like I'd seen him somewhere before.

But that was Alex. Matthew wouldn't be creeped out by a picture, so I couldn't let it show.

Besides, it would just give the others more fuel to treat me like a kid.

"Frederick 'Slasher' Hollis is a piece of work, and that's putting it lightly. Spent a number of years as a mercenary with multiple groups, and has dappled in undercover work for multiple terrorist organizations. The crimes against him are endless. Terrorism, domestic and otherwise, murder, rape, theft…you name it, he's done it. He's made a deal with the higher ups to exchange information on the organizations he's worked with to escape the death penalty and get a couple extra benefits in prison. You're to escort him safely to Kiev, where you'll hand him off to Ukrainian ambassadors to be held there until the trial is arranged."

I cast a slight glance to the others, gauging their reactions. Bear seemed on edge, fidgeting in his seat, while Tiger was the exact opposite, stock still and intent on the information on the screen. Lion's hand was against his chest, and it took me a moment to figure out he was fiddling with a cross hanging around his neck. I'd seen it before, but never given it much thought.

The Sergeant started talking again, and I refocused on the board.

"This is your route," he said, an image of Europe popping up on the screen with a thick red line weaving across the land. "There are marked places to stop for gas and food, and the inn you'll be staying it is there as well. You will not stop anywhere else for any reason short of a global catastrophe. Are we clear?"

A chorus of "Yes, sir"s filled the room. The Sergeant nodded, satisfied.

"Good. Now Agent Jackson will fill you in on what you'll be up against."

The word "Agent" caught my attention and I slouched down in my seat as much as possible without being noticeable, angling my face in a way that I could mostly stay in the shadows. God, if he recognized me here…

I couldn't even listen to most of what he said. My heart was thumping erratically in my chest, and I had to sit on my hands for the rest of the briefing to convince myself they weren't shaking.

Agent Jackson, though, didn't seem to know me, or if he did, he didn't show it. He went through a list of enemies seeking to capture or assassinate the target and their level of danger, pointing out spots along our route we'd need to be especially cautious on.

When the meeting was over and the agent stepped out, I felt as though I could finally breathe.

"Dismissed," the Sergeant said. "You have an hour to pack and be at the gate. It's an undercover operation, so pack plainclothes and necessities. Nothing more than a rucksack for each of you. Jaguar, stay a moment."

The panic was back.

"Yes, sir?" I said as soon as the others had left the room. There was a waver in my voice.

"How are you feeling about this?" He asked, shuffling papers on the table before giving me a glance.

My confusion must have shown on my face. "Fine, sir. Bit nervous, but I reckon that's normal, sir."

He nodded, an odd expression on his face. "How are you doing with your unit?"

I hesitated. "Alright, sir. We…get on fine."

He sighed. "That's convincing."

I assumed it was sarcasm, but his unchanging expression made it a bit hard to be certain.

"Well, good luck to you. You've got good men watching your back, but I want you especially to be careful."

Oh, God. Did he know something? Had he found some inconsistency in my file, did something tip him off…what if he made me leave? Was he watching—

"This guy, Hollis…he's sadistic. He's very dangerous, and very skilled, and for him, the younger the better." He looked up, his eyes serious. "You understand what I'm saying? He may say things that…unnerve you, or get under your skin. You can't let it get to you."

Oh. So it…it wasn't anything about…

Oh, thank _God_.

I tried to hide my relief. What he said unnerved me, yeah, but that was buried beneath the relief of knowing I hadn't been discovered. "Um…th-thank you for the warning, sir. I'll be on my guard around him. Is…there anything else?"

"No. Just be careful. Make sure everyone gets back safely."

"Yes, sir." That I could agree with.

I felt the Sergeant's eyes lingering on me as I left, but I decided to pay it no mind.

There was no way he knew. I'd checked the fake file myself, twice and three times…it was foolproof.

I was okay.

It was enough to calm my racing heart, for a moment.

…

We took a ferry from Hastings to _Boulogne-san-Mer_, where we continued inland by railway. The ride was silent for the most part, though Bear and Lion played a rowdy game of poker, at one point. Tiger read a book, casting a tepid glare at Bear and Lion when they got too loud for him.

For my part, I leaned against the window, resting my chin on my hand and watching the countryside roll by. It reminded me of a holiday I'd taken with Ian and Jack once.

_"__Alex!" Jack called as I crested one of the many rolling green hills, admiring the stretch of serene landscape in front of me. "Alex, don't wander off like that. I can't keep up with you, and you know it."_

_At twelve, I was still oblivious to the realities behind Ian's jobs, but I knew he was away often enough that a holiday like this…with him, and Jack and me, just the three of us, was rare. Ian came up behind Jack, smiling at me, and I beamed at him._

_It was so nice to spend time together. I'd missed him._

_ "__What do you think, Al?" He asked, tousling my hair when he reached me, dropping his arm around my shoulders. "What do you want for dinner tonight? There's a little authentic place a bit of a drive away. Jack, sound good?"_

_I wrinkled my nose, looking up at him. At twelve, I was a little short for my age, and he looked so big. So…invincible. "You're not going to make me try duck again, are you?"_

_He laughed, then, and squeezed my shoulder. He was always so serious and severe…times like this, when he was carefree and affectionate, I felt like I really had…a father. No, a…a dad, in him, despite everything. "If you really hated it that much…"_

_ "__It was awful," I complained, tugging on Jack's hand. "What do you want, Jack?"_

_She pretended to think, her eyes twinkling. "I dunno…Ian, maybe he'd take more to quail than duck."_

_Ian barked a laugh, his shoulders relaxed. "I think you might be onto something, Jack."_

_They smiled at me, and I said something about how I was pretty sure that would be just as bad, and they laughed again. We ended up eating something with rice and beef, some local dish, and I was content with that. After that we got ice cream and toured the streets, where Ian made me practice my French with the locals. I stumbled over some pronunciations, blushing furiously, but he nudged me each time and encouraged me to try again. _

_When we were picking up a couple things, Jack tried to ask one of the bazaar workers where she could find avocados, and the man thought she was asking for a lawyer, and promptly told her to beat it._

_It was a good trip._

It was a bitter memory.

"Jaguar!"

I started at my name, turning to face Lion, who had his hand on my shoulder. His eyes were concerned, and Tiger and Bear were staring, too. "You alright, mate? You've been zoned out for ages."

"Yeah, sorry," I said, recovering quickly. "I've been around this area before, I was just looking for something familiar."

"Really?" Bear asked, looking out the window. "It seems nice. Come out on holiday?"

This was stretching into dangerous territory. Even if it was the smallest thing, revealing anything about my past, real or fake, felt just a bit too much like tempting fate. "I suppose, yeah."

"Who'd you come with?" Lion asked, shuffling the cards in front of him. "Parents, or…?"

"Just family," I said, hoping by remaining vague they'd drop it. My heart was pounding again. "Actually, I need to use the loo."

Before anyone could protest, I scooted by Lion, heading towards the back of the railway car. It was about a four hour journey, and it wasn't a popular line. There were only two other passengers in our car, a man and a woman. The woman had a bundle in her arms, and was cooing softly to it; it was silent, so I assumed it was a sleeping baby.

I headed into the loo and stood there for a moment, my back against the door.

To be honest, the Sergeant's words had unnerved me more than I cared to admit. I hadn't told the others about it. I figured if the Sergeant had wanted them to know, he'd have told them, as well; though I reckoned it was more for my benefit, than anything. I'll admit, I'd be a little embarrassed if the others knew.

I splashed some water on my face to wake myself up, trying to push the thoughts from my mind. Something felt off. I'd been doing this long enough to know to trust my gut, but I just couldn't tell what was wrong.

It was something I'd seen. Something was nagging me, and I knew I'd seen it. So what…?

I opened the door and was making my way back to my seat when I realized it. Well, belatedly so.

It was the couple. What kind of couple with a newborn on a four-hour journey didn't have any luggage?

As soon as I saw them again, and as soon as I came to that realization, they attacked.

I assume they'd been waiting for one of us to move, to single one of us out and catch the others by surprise. The woman, in one fluid motion, tossed the bundle aside (no wonder the baby had been so silent, it was just bundle of cloth) and lunged herself at me expertly, while the man whipped out a pistol and turned it on the others.

I couldn't rely on them to react quickly enough; they were at least three rows down. By the time they saw the gun, one of them would have a bullet in their heads.

I ducked the woman's roundhouse kick and vaulted myself towards the man, kicking the gun out of his grip, sending it sliding down the wooden floor. He growled and sent a fist my way. I barely dodged to the side, and narrowly missed the knife the woman thrust at me from behind, feeling it slice through my windbreak and leave a line of blood on my bicep.

The others had since noticed the commotion and had leapt out of their seats, coming to join the fight.

We outnumbered them two-to-one, and they knew it. They knew to have a shot against those three, they had to finish quickly with me.

Well, turns out I felt the same. Scooping up the discarded bundle in a somersault, I grabbed a single cloth and righted myself, my back to my approaching teammates. When the man next threw a fist at me (direct and deadly; these people were very well-trained) I dodged and wrapped the cloth tightly around his wrist, using it to twist the arm behind his back. I was strong, but I was small, and he probably had one hundred pounds on me, so I needed the extra support.

He reached for me with his other hand, but the angle was too awkward for him to grab anything. I spun him in front of me as a shield just as the woman threw her knife with pinpoint accuracy; it hit the man in his shoulder, which would've been my bloody _head_.

He howled in pain and I shoved him forward into the woman, who looked a bit startled after hitting her own partner, using her surprise to catch her off guard. She tossed the man out of her way, but by the time she did that, I was already running at her. She anticipated it and aimed a deadly kick at my head, but I dropped into a football slide I'd used as a forward more times than I could count, plucking the knife from the injured man's shoulder and slicing her Achilles tendon in one swift motion. She collapsed with a howl of pain, clutching at the injured appendage.

The man had recovered enough to fumble for the gun, and sent a shot off that whizzed wide, just by my ear. Knowing that if I took the time to stand and approach him I'd be well and truly screwed, I turned my body and pushed off the bench, sliding across the wood towards him, pressing a hand into his wound as I wrestled the gun from him.

He screamed in pain, and I managed to tear the gun from his bloody fingers, slamming it into his temple. He went limp and still in just a second.

Panting, and shaking, I got to my knees, momentarily mesmerized by the blood on my hands. The woman was still groaning behind me, spitting curses, and I dimly registered Tiger walking past me and knocking her out. I came to myself in a jolt, standing unsteadily.

"We need to go," I said quickly, brushing past a stunned Bear and grabbing my bag from the overhead compartment, throwing the others at their respective owners. "There will be more. We're sitting ducks here, and civilians may get involved if any more of them show up."

"Wait, Jaguar—slow down, dammit!" Lion yelled, shouldering his bag despite his words. "Calm down for a second. How do you know there's more?"

"There's _always_ more," I said impatiently, grabbing the gun the agent had used and wiping it down before tossing it out the window. It had my prints on it, and I didn't want someone to find it in the car and conduct an investigation thinking we'd attacked the place, then have our faces all over the news while we tried to conduct an undercover operation.

"How long util we reach the next station?" I asked breathlessly, tossing a ziptie to Tiger, who fumbled to catch it. "Tie her up."

"Two or three minutes?" Lion answered uncertainly, watching with wary eyes. "Our stop isn't for half an hour—"

"We're getting off here," I said, zip tying the man's arms behind his back. "Somebody help me? We need to store them in the bathroom. They won't be discovered until someone from the French intelligence agency can come to collect them. Dammit, we'll need to clean up the blood—"

"Jaguar, you're not making sense—" Lion said, grabbing my shoulder.

I realized I was panicking. It was sudden realization, and it forced me to take stock of the situation. The others were staring at me like I'd grown another head, regarding with suspicion and concern. I was shaky, and unsteady, and I realized it was because this was the first time I'd been in a fight—a real fight, with guns and knives and the probability of death—in several months. Though the surge of adrenaline was familiar, and horrifyingly comforting, I wasn't used to it anymore.

Damn it all.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly, pausing in my actions for just a moment. "I'm sorry, I know I'm not making any sense. I know you're point on this mission, and I respect that, I really do. Just—just listen to me, just for a while, alright? I—I know what I'm doing. Work with me." I took in a breath, keeping my eyes on the growing bloodstain beneath the man. "Please."

There was a pregnant pause, with only the unconscious man's moans and grinding of the wheels along the track. I busied myself trying to wipe the blood off my hands on my undershirt, but it was just spreading.

"Alright," Lion said, his expression betraying nothing. "Alright, we'll follow you for now. But in return, we expect an explanation. Is that fair?"

I flinched a little, avoiding his eyes. "It can't be…full."

Lion sighed. "We'll take what we can get. What do you need?"

I pushed my worries and anxieties to the farthest corner of my mind, letting my mind go into hyper-awareness as I surveyed the damage. The blood was still fresh, and there wasn't much of it. The man was lying on his back, and the knife wound hadn't gone _through_ him, so it was only a small pool of blood.

"Bear, lock both the doors at the end of the car," I said, eyes flitting around to every inch of the car, looking for things I could use. "Tiger, Lion, make sure they're secure and gag them, then shove them in the loo." I pulled out a shirt I didn't particularly like from my rucksack and cut it in two with the knife, handing a strip to each of them. "Use those to bind the wounds as best you can. We'll get in touch with the DRM as soon as we can; they should be fine until they get medical treatment."

I pulled another shirt (which, unfortunately, I did like) out of my bad and mopped up the blood as best I could. There was little enough that I managed to get most of it up; the rest looked like someone had spilled something, and it had stained. Only a UV light or a trained eye would reveal it as a bloodstain.

Not a moment too soon, the train screeched to halt in the station, a pleasant French voice announcing our arrival at _Argenteuil_. Hastily zipping my windbreak and shoving my hands in my pockets to hide the blood, I nodded to the others to disembark, and hastily stepped off the train into the bustling station.

My eyes quickly scanned the platform, but I didn't see anything readily suspicious. I walked as quickly as I could without being suspicious towards the exit, immediately hailing a taxi. Ian and Jack and I had stopped in this town briefly, and I remembered a safe little inn that was mostly off the map and off the books where we could regroup.

"_Excusez-moi,_" I asked the taxi driver as the four of us piled into the backseat. It had dual-facing benches, so we could all fit, though it was a bit of a squeeze with Bear's height. "_Combien est le tarif à l'Hôtel Luna_?" (Excuse me. How much is the fare to the Luna Hotel?)

The driver looked in his rearview mirror, his surprise evident. "_Euh…une trentaine d'euros? Ton francaise est tres bien. Est-ce que tu es en vacation?" _(Uh…about thirty Euros? Your French is very good. Are you on vacation?)

_ "__Oui," _I lied with a smile. "_Merci beaucoup_." (Yes. Thank you very much.)

He nodded and smiled, pulling out into traffic and rolling up the divider to give us some privacy. I slumped back against the seat, feeling my adrenaline crash. My arm ached, and I winced, putting a hand over the wound.

"Oi," Bear said, concerned eyes narrowing in my direction. "Are you hurt?"

I figured it would be futile at this point to lie. "She snagged me with the knife. It's not deep."

Conveniently (for him) he was sitting next to me and took my arm carefully, prying my hand away. "Can you take off your windbreaker?"

"Bear, leave it," I said, shrugging him off as politely as I could manage. "You can look when we get to the hotel. I'd like to be somewhere safe before we worry about that. It's not bad."

Although clearly unhappy, he let me be.

It was a tense taxi ride.

…

We checked into a room for the night on the fifth floor. I liked this place. We'd stayed here for one night, Jack and Ian and I, and it was shady in some ways, but cozy and personal in others. I wondered for the longest time why Ian had let us stay there, because despite its charming personality, the place was addicting to prostitutes and drug dealers, who did a lot of underground business in the attached nightclubs.

In hindsight, dealing with terrorists and undercover spies as much as he did, there was probably nothing to worry about for him.

"Lion," I said as we keyed into our room. "Can you call the Sergeant, or whoever the contact is? Tell him we can still do the mission, but he or the DRM may want to send another unit. I don't think the threat assessment ruled the mission as dangerous as it actually is."

I tossed my rucksack beside the bed nearest the door and shrugged out of my windbreaker, hissing in pain as the wound on my arm pulled. I was sore, and exhausted, but I knew sleep would be elusive, at best.

Lion had used his burner to call the DRM liaison on the way and inform them of the assassins on the train, and they'd been swiftly taken into custody within the hour. I was fairly confident no one had followed us to the hotel, so just for a moment, I let myself relax, if only a fraction.

Bear and Tiger slipped wordlessly into the room, and was right there as soon as the door closed, engaging the deadlock and the other lock above that, letting myself breathe. It was odd; I didn't think I'd ever gone so long without Tiger or Bear saying something, but they seemed to be going with it. That was good. That was easier than the alternative.

"_Sit_," Bear ordered suddenly, pointing to a chair with angry eyes. "You've been bleeding for forty minutes. Don't think I didn't see. So help me, I will _drug_ your arse if you don't let me look at you."

Despite the situation, I managed a humorless chuckle, sinking into the seat and rolling up the bloody sleeve of my t-shirt, exposing the jagged slash. I was startled at the sight of it. Damn, it was worse than I thought.

Tiger looked over, eyes pinched. "Not bad, my arse," he muttered.

"I…didn't think it was that bad," I said honestly as Bear grabbed the medical kit from his rucksack, opening it and sterilizing his hands.

"Well, you know, that's normally why you have the Medic take a look, moron," he griped. Tiger was right; Bear _was_ neurotic when it came to injuries.

While Bear prepared to disinfect the wound, a small flask appeared in front of my face. I looked up to see Tiger waiting expectantly. "That shit's gonna sting like hell," he said, waving the flask for emphasis. "Best numb yourself a bit while you can."

"You know I'm underage," I said with a small smirk, grabbing the bottle and taking a long drag.

The whiskey burned going down, and I pulled a face as I swallowed, handing the flask back to him. "That's strong."

"That's the idea," he said, screwing the cap back on and throwing it on the bed. He was right; it warmed my stomach and I felt my tense muscles relax slightly.

Without warning, Bear pressed a wet cloth to the wound, and Tiger was right. It stung like the damn fires from hell.

I gripped the armrest to keep from making any noise, my face pinching at the pain, and I stared at a piece of abstract art on the wall that bloody belonged in a child's art portfolio.

"Almost…there we go," Bear said quietly, peeling the bloody cloth away, fresh blood running down my arm. "I think you can get away with four or five stitches. Want some painkillers?"

"Think the whiskey did the trick," I muttered through grit teeth. "Just do it."

Bear nodded, his eyes far away. "Jaguar, you want to tell me why I'm looking at another bullet scar?"

Caught off guard, I peered at my arm. Oh. I'd forgotten about that one. "No."

The word was clipped, and there was no room for argument.

Bear sighed, and Tiger's eyes were angry. "How many times have you been shot, kid?"

I looked away, not quite able to face them. "…three."

The fact that I was willing to volunteer that information without so much as a word of protest made me realize I shouldn't have drunk so much whiskey. I quickly decided to keep my mouth shut for the rest of the night.

Tiger swore under his breath. "Damn pincushion, you are," he muttered.

Bear didn't say anything. I was grateful.

Bear was good at his job. He did the stitches quickly, neatly, and tightly, closing the wound completely. He taped some gauze over it and then bound the wound tightly to stop any leftover bleeding.

"All set," he said with a disarming smile. That wasn't right. We weren't close enough for him to smile at me like that. "Sorry I don't have a sticker to give you."

I scoffed. "And you call yourself a medic."

Lion had come back in a minute ago, setting the phone on the nightstand and sitting on one of the beds. "Sergeant Callaway is working with the DRM to secure an extra escort for the transport tomorrow. They've added this place into our plans, and are going to send a car to bring us straight to the meetup in Paris around noon. We should get some rest soon; we'll take turns on watch."

Tiger nodded, and Bear grabbed his toiletries from his bag, claiming the bathroom. Lion shot me a look and said, "You alright?"

I gave a tense smile, holding up my newly bandaged arm. "Fit as a fiddle."

He scoffed, smiling a bit. "Sure. I know you're tired, but…want to tell us what happened today?"

I sighed, looking away. I'd been waiting for that. "I don't know what you're asking. What do you want me to say?"

"How about…why, when you're nineteen and this is your first mission, do you fight and act like some intelligence veterans I've seen?"

I flinched. I don't know if they saw. "I don't know what you want from me. I've told you I can't…I can't explain things. It's not the answer you want, but it's the only one I can give. I'm not going to apologize for it."

I thought Tiger would start yelling at me. I thought Bear would remain silent with a worried look and unsteady hands. I thought Lion would look disappointed. That's what always happened when I refused to volunteer information.

"Okay," Lion said, his voice patient. It threw me off. They should be yelling at me. They should be cursing me and asking why I didn't want to share things. "I'm sorry. We've been asking nothing but big questions, because you seem intent on hiding everything, and…well, you can't blame us, mate. You're mysterious. We'd like to know."

I eyed him warily, absently rubbing my arm. It ached. "But…"

"But you can learn to trust people gradually," Tiger finished, crossing his arms. "I don't like it. I'm not patient enough for it. But it looks like you've got a shit-ton of baggage, so I'm make an exception."

This was unsettling. I didn't like it at all. It felt like…I was being tricked into something. Like they were trying to trick me into giving something away.

Lion looked earnest, leaning forward and maintaining eye contact. Tiger was more closed off, but he was listening attentively. Despite the sounds of Bear brushing his teeth, the bathroom door was ajar, and I knew he was listening.

"Don't play me for a fool," I snapped, the panic getting to me. "If you want to ask something, ask, but don't…don't try to trick me into saying something."

Lion furrowed his eyebrows. "I wasn't trying to trick you into anything. I was just going to start with some smaller questions, ones you might feel more comfortable answering."

I tensed up, looking away. Damn me and my paranoid mind. I ruined everything.

"What's your favorite color?" Lion asked tentatively, quietly.

There was a pause for a long second. I could not answer. I could maintain my silence on anything and everything about me, and keep these relationships professional, cordial. I could do that.

But I'd be kidding myself if I thought that was possible anymore.

I didn't _trust_ them. Not with my life or my past. But I…appreciated them. And their willingness to work with me despite my secrecy. I enjoyed the quick-witted banter, and the concerned looks, no matter how much they unsettled me. I enjoyed it when Tiger attempted to get to know me, even with his stand-offish attitude. It was funny how he got flustered when I called him out on it.

I enjoyed Bear's energy and his ability to make me laugh. I appreciated his presence and his ability to lighten the mood when things got too tense, and I appreciated how he treated me as an equal, and not as a kid.

I appreciated Lion's kindness and his steady presence. I enjoyed how he'd sometimes crack jokes that had Bear laughing for minutes at a time, and how he'd just grin afterwards watching him. I enjoyed how protective he seemed of his unit-members, and I was…grateful that that included me. I appreciated his leadership skills and his patience with me when I couldn't open up.

I had wanted to avoid all of these things, but I hadn't been able to.

I wanted to…let down my walls. Finally.

I couldn't, though, so…I settled for answering.

"…blue," I said quietly. "Like…like clear ocean water. That blue."

A pause. "Nice. Mine's blue too. Though I prefer lighter shades." That was Lion.

"Mine's yellow," Bear volunteered, poking his head out the door. The words were garbled through a mouthful of foam, but he grinned anyways. "Like on a really sunny day."

I managed a smile. Bear was like a kid, sometimes.

"Red," Tiger said gruffly. "I don't give a damn what shade."

I huffed a laugh, still looking at the abstract art on the wall. I noticed it had a shade of blue I liked in it, and traced the swirling line around the picture.

"What's something you're afraid of?" Lion asked, leaning back. "I'm particularly afraid of spiders. They scare the bejesus out of me, I tell you."

"I _hate_ planes," Bear volunteered, now foamless, with a towel around his neck. "God, it's flying in a tin can of death. Can't stand them."

I looked at Tiger expectantly, raising an eyebrow when he remained silent. "What? I'm bloody fearless."

"S'that why you jumped ten feet in the air the other day when I tricked you into thinking there was a snake slithering around your feet?" Bear asked with a cocky grin. Tiger flipped him off.

I appreciated this. It was a heavy question, but they were giving light-hearted answers. I could be as serious or as vague as I wanted to be.

I went through my list of fears, searching for a suitable answer. There were…several. Jellyfish, drowning, doctors (surgeons especially), guns (I used them, and I was damn good, but that didn't mean I bloody liked them), planes, vaccines, hot air balloons, fireworks, space, bombs…bloody hell, naming all of them would take a year.

"Well," I said, shifting uncomfortably. "I don't like jellyfish."

"God, I hate those little buggers," Bear said, collapsing onto the bed next to Tiger. "Sting like hell. You ever been stung?"

I shook my head. "No, just…had a bad experience with one, was all." I stood quickly, realizing I'd said too much. "I'm going to wash off." I grabbed mt bag and headed to the bathroom.

I locked the bathroom door.

Taking a deep, shaking breath, I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to slow my heart rate.

That had been…nice, and absolutely terrifying. I could feel myself becoming more comfortable with every second, and before I knew it, my life story was going to spill out of me.

Dammit, I wanted to let it all out. I _wanted_ to talk about everything with _someone_, but I didn't have that luxury. But…but keeping it all inside, letting it build and fester, the hatred and sorrow and terror and regret and agony…I was going to burst one day. Burst, or absolutely shut down.

I didn't know which would be worse.

Mechanically, I washed the dried blood off my arms and hands, taking care to keep Bear's meticulous bandage dry. I splashed some water on my face and changed my clothes, dressing in some black sweatpants and a long-sleeved V-neck. I brushed my teeth and ran my fingers through my hair, looking at myself in the mirror.

I looked…pale. Paler than I remembered.

Sure, I hadn't been…sleeping, or eating much, but the blood loss was probably part of it.

Damn. I was a wreck.

I shook my head, scattering my thoughts. Shouldering my bag, I left the bathroom and beelined to the bed not occupied by Tiger and Bear, collapsing beside Lion and lying back. I was uncomfortable, to say the least, sleeping so close to someone else, but…but it couldn't be helped. There were only two beds.

Tiger headed to the bathroom, and Lion eyed me as I slipped under the covers. "I'm going to take first watch. Sound okay?"

I paused, nodding, then sinking down against the pillows, exhaling slowly. God, I was tired. And it put me at ease to know I'd at least have a few hours of sleep without someone else too close to me.

I fell asleep quickly. I suppose I was more tired than I'd imagined, because I was sure I wouldn't be able to sleep for ages. As I was drifting off, I distantly felt Lion pat my shoulder. I wondered when I'd started to be okay with people being able to touch me while I was so vulnerable. I wondered why I didn't do anything.

But I was too tired, and something about this touch was…dare I say, safe. Comforting.

"You did good today," Lion said quietly. I'm not sure if he meant for me to hear, because I was very nearly asleep. He might have thought I was. "Whatever you're carrying, you don't have to carry it alone."

For some reason, those words were…very nice to hear.

I burrowed a bit further into the blankets subconsciously, feeling his hand leave my shoulder. For the first time in a long time, I slept well. Wonderfully, even. Deeply and peacefully.

There were no nightmares.

**A/N: HELLOOOOOOOOOO! I'm alive. Whoops. **

**I really enjoyed writing this chapter! I'm trying to make this a slow-ish burn, but I just REALLY want my child to have a family, so I may be taking it a bit fast. Let me know if I am! Please leave a review and let me know what you think so far, I'd appreciate it! **

**Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed, and everyone who has followed and favorited! **

**Guest 1: That is SO SWEET omg thank you! I'm honored!**

**Guest 2: THANK YOU!**

**Cortanacordeliacarstairs: Thanks so much!**

**Next time, we'll get on with the actual mission :) love you guys! Thanks! **


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**A/N: Warning. There's some suggestive language in this chapter, but nothing happens. If that triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please stay safe! **

I slept remarkably well. Better than I had in a really, really long time. I knew this for sure, because when I woke up, everyone else was already up and moving around.

That…had never happened. Especially not with them.

"He lives," Bear joked, shoving something into his duffle. "We thought you were going to sleep all day."

Blearily, I rolled over, glancing at the clock.

Holy shit. Had I really slept ten hours?

I even picked it up, waiting for it to change just so I knew it wasn't broken. It wasn't.

"Damn," I muttered, rubbing my eyes. I was still tired. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Our car doesn't get here for a few hours," Lion said. "I was going to wake you in about half an hour if you weren't up by then."

I nodded, getting out of bed and setting my feet on the floor, rolling my shoulder. My arm was sore.

"Let me change your bandage before you do anything," Bear said, reaching for his medical kit.

"No, I'll shower first," I said quickly, getting up. "Then you can."

"Don't take too long," Tiger said gruffly, reading a book in the armchair. "I'm hungry."

I scoffed. "Yes, your highness."

He flipped me off.

I locked the bathroom door and undressed, peeling off Bear's bandage. It was still a fresh wound, but it looked good, with no signs of infection.

I took a moment to look at my scars. It still unsettled me that they knew about them. I hadn't shown them to anyone deliberately, not even…Jack, and _definitely_ not Sabina…

I sighed. I shouldn't think about them. It just upset me.

Hopping in the shower, I washed my hair, noticing the color had faded a little, and my roots were beginning to show. That wasn't good. I needed to re-dye it as soon as I was back at base, before someone noticed.

I finished quickly, dressing in some cargo pants and t-shirt, putting a towel around my shoulders so my hair didn't soak into my collar. "Bear," I said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Ready?" He asked, lugging over the med kit. Tiger was still reading, and Lion was on the phone.

"Perfect timing," Lion said in my direction, turning the speaker into his ear. "Room service. Want anything?"

I tilted my head, considering, as Bear wet a piece of gauze with antiseptic. "Do they have _pain-au-chocolat_?"

Lion blinked. "Um…"

"A chocolate croissant," I revised, smirking at his lost expression. "Want me to order?"

Lion gave a nervous laugh and handed me the phone, plus a list of everyone's orders. "I'd ask Tiger, but he's still learning French."

"Oi. Watch it." He grumbled from his armchair.

I laughed. "It's alright. French was the last one I learned."

Oh. That was…easy. Exposing that harmless piece of information about myself. It wasn't supposed to be easy. When had it become easy?

"_Bonjour_?" I said into the phone. "_Oui, s'il vous plait. Je—" _I cut myself off with a hiss, tightening my hand on the receiver. "_Shit_, Bear, _warn_ me," I whispered, shutting my eyes against the sting. (Hello? Yes, please. I—)

"Sorry," he said apologetically, smiling sheepishly. "I figured it would be better to do it when you weren't expecting it."

"What part of me makes you think I like surprises," I grumbled, putting the phone back to my ear. "_Euh, je suis desolee. Oui, je voudrais…" _(Uh, I'm sorry. Yes, I'd like…)

I placed everyone's order, and was told the wait would be twenty minutes. It was only 10:15 now, so we would have plenty of time before the car arrived, if everything went according to plan.

In line with my paranoid personality, I was a bit worried the food would be poisoned, but I'd deal with that when it arrived.

Bear finished disinfecting and re-wrapping my arm, nodding. "It doesn't show any sign of infection, so that's good. I'll change the bandage again tonight, and then we should be okay to do it once a day from then on."

I nodded, rolling my shoulder. It felt a lot better. "Thank you."

He nodded with a smile, rising and returning the pack to his rucksack. "Food should be here in ten," I said. Bear had been thorough with the bandage, so it had taken some time. I appreciated it.

I fetched a glass of water from the bathroom and put it on the center table, pulling a vial from my rucksack and pouring a drop in. It had been a parting gift from Smithers, capable of detecting any and all poison, no matter how little the trace. "When it gets here pinch a bit off and put it in here. If the water changes color after a couple minutes, it's poisoned."

I looked up to see them all giving me a particular deer-in-headlights look. "What?"

"Why would you think it's poisoned?" Lion asked, setting his bag down beside the bed. "You said you trusted the inn."

I raised an eyebrow. "I do. Some of the most famous and well-trusted restaurants in the world have been used as conduits for high-profile assassinations via poison, because it's so hard to trace in a bustling kitchen. Someone can slip in claiming to be a new busboy, or cook, or waiter, and sprinkle some arsenic in whatever sauce you're eating, and disappear again without anyone remembering their face."

"You're bloody terrifying," Tiger said, giving me a look. "Who the hell thinks like that all the time?"

"Someone who wants to stay alive," I shot back, feeling my hackles rise. "Don't if you don't want to. I'm going to."

"Sorry, we're just surprised," Bear said, sitting down and tugging out a paperback. I noticed it was a medical journal. "None of us have really been on such an…I don't know, intelligence-intensive mission. It's weird."

I faltered. "Um…"

"Don't even bother," Tiger grumbled. "I don't care what you or your bloody file say, you've definitely been on a mission of some kind. Otherwise you wouldn't do half the things you do."

There was a knock on the door, saving me from answering. "They're early," I muttered. I pulled my handgun from my waist and pressed it firmly against the door, opening it a bit.

A middle-aged woman stood outside, pushing a cart. "Bonjour, monsieur," she said politely, then remembered. "Ah…no, good morning." Her voice was heavily accented. "I bring breakfast."

I smiled wide, going for disarming. "Thank you. May we put the cart in the hall when we're done?" I asked, enunciating clearly.

She obviously understood more than she spoke, because she nodded fervently. "Oui, of course! Enjoy." She smiled and hurried back down the hallway. I set the gun on the table by the door and tugged the tray inside. It bore several dishes, with no sign of ill intent.

I spotted my chocolate croissant and took the plate, eyeing the others. "I don't care one way or the other, but if you die, I'm leaving you."

Bear snorted. "Sure. I'll try your magic glass."

I pinched a piece of my bread off and dropped it in, watching it sink to the bottom, and checked my watch. A minute and a half later, the water was clear.

"I'm safe," I said, biting into the sweet pastry. I'd missed these. They were bloody _delicious_. "Bear?"

Tiger nor Lion had taken a bite of their food, waiting their turn. It turned out everyone was safe, which I'd much prefer to the alternative, but it did make me feel a bit stupid. Even though I knew quite well caution was necessary.

I only hoped the others would trust me enough to get us out of this mess alive.

…

We were picked up an hour and a half later by a nondescript Frenchman in a black taxi. The ride to the DRM headquarters (disguised as an office building) went smoothly, and we ascended the elevator to the briefing room and exchange site without incident.

I didn't like elevators, either. I tapped my foot steadily in impatience until we reached the sixty-third floor.

We were led to a nice meeting room not unlike the briefing room at Brecon Beacons, only bigger. We took our seats at the end of the table, Lion at the head, and were instructed in accented English to wait for our DRM liaison and the French teams who would be assisting us with the transport.

"Would you care for some coffee or tea while you wait?" An assistant asked us politely, smiling.

"Two coffees," Tiger said, eyeing Bear. "You do want one, right?"

"Of course," Bear grinned. "Extra sugar, as always."

"I'll have tea," Lion said with a smile.

She looked at me expectantly. "Water for me, please," I said.

"Paranoid arse," Tiger grumbled, but there was no heat behind it.

I rolled my eyes.

A few minutes later, after the drinks had arrived, eight men filed into the room. Though they were in plain clothes, it was obvious from their deliberate movements that they were soldiers, and good ones. Behind them trailed a man and a woman in suits.

"Good afternoon," the woman said in accented English, smiling professionally. "I trust your journey here was uneventful?"

"The second half, anyways," Lion replied with a knowing smile.

She nodded. "Of course. We were informed of the incident on the train, and have since worked with your Sergeant to adjust your travel plans accordingly." Her English was very good, I noticed.

The lights dimmed. On instinct, I sat up straighter, but the far wall was illuminated shortly by a projection, showing a map of France.

She went through a detailed revision of the plan, which would increase our travel time to approximately 32 hours, broken up over three days; our route was almost entirely altered, and we were going quite a bit out of the way, even through a stretch of desert at one point. We would be acting under the guise of transporting illegal opioids seized in a drug raid to a disposal site in Ukraine.

Our unit and the package would be in the back of a sizeable delivery vehicle, which had been outfitted with dual facing seats on either side of the outer walls of the transport. Two men would driving our truck, while two men would be driving a standard military vehicle in front and the remaining four would be doing the same in the back, acting as a standard military escort.

"We've received permission from the Polish and German governments to transport the package with the added French security," she assured. "You'll leave in one hour. One block away is a loading dock for a local supermarket; the package will be loaded there in twenty minutes. Jules will lead you all there; he is our main liaison for this assignment." One of the men up front nodded, giving a tight smile. "Are there any questions?"

I thought it a bit stupid to put the package in the most conspicuous vehicle. Better to have a dummy package enter the main vehicle and store him in the front; that would be the least likely place to hide him. However, I didn't exactly want to ruin the peace, so I kept my mouth shut.

"No, Madame," Lion said. "Thank you for working with us."

She nodded. "Of course. I do have a couple more things." She paused. "I do not know how much you've been told, but Hollis is a very dangerous man. There is a reason he is so highly regarded in the underworld. Not only is he skilled, but he is also very intelligent. He has been known to use psychology and his excellent ability to read people to his advantage, to weaken his opponent. He will more than likely play mind games with you, or make remarks that make you uncomfortable." Her eyes flicked to me for a moment, then back to the room as a whole. "He usually likes to single out those who appear weak, or young. As he says, those are his 'type.'"

I felt most eyes in the room flicker briefly to me, but I kept my gaze straight ahead, arms crossed. Good to know even the Sergeant had better discretion than this woman.

"I warn you of this so that you do not let it affect you," she concluded. "You are dismissed. Complete the mission and return safely."

That was nice. Blunt and Jones had only ever told me to complete the mission. Screw my safety.

We descended to the ground floor and followed Jules to the loading dock, a five minute walk away, and introduced ourselves while we waited. They didn't use codenames, but they only gave us their first names, and I'm sure some of them were fake. They all seemed like capable soldiers, sharp and fit, and I'll admit a little guiltily that I didn't pay much attention beyond that and their first names.

We stuck to our code names, for which I was grateful. I'm not sure how consistently I'd respond if they called me Matthew.

We learned that all the soldiers but Jules, who was proficient, but not fluent, had little English under their belt, so communication would go mainly by Jules, me, or Tiger. Surprisingly, though Tiger had introduced himself as the Communications expert, he nodded to me and listed me as an alternate route of communication if he was otherwise occupied.

Well. That was…mature.

I nodded in thanks.

After a few more minutes of idle chatter, a transport vehicle arrived.

I bristled, knowing it contained the prisoner. I'll admit, everyone's descriptions had put me on edge. I was a bit worried about this journey, though I didn't want to let it show.

A hand dropped on my shoulder, and I couldn't quite hold my flinch, but it was just Lion. "If you feel uncomfortable," he said quietly, so only I could hear, "or if you need to swap with one of the Frenchmen in the other vehicles, let me know. Don't forget you have a unit behind you."

Surprised, but a little grateful despite myself, I nodded. This was a team mission. Trust issues or no, it was okay to rely on other people. I couldn't do this kind of thing alone.

I noticed that, though imperceptibly, as the doors opened and Frederick Slasher Hollis was revealed, Lion, Tiger, and Bear all scooted just a bit in front of me, hiding me from view of the back of the van, where Hollis' line of sight would fall.

I was, all at once, shocked, disturbed, a little angry, and…touched.

That was…thoughtful. Maybe I was being too obvious about how antsy I was. But anyone, even Matthew, would be in this situation, right?

I peered around Lion and caught a glimpse of the infamous Slasher.

I wasn't surer if it was my fear, the rumors, or a combination, but…yeah. I wasn't liking this at all.

He was a man of impressive stature, easily 6'2" or above, with muscles that were nothing to scoff at. He was decorated with tattoos, winding patterns of color racing up his arms and neck, a star on one cheek and a Chinese character of some kind on the other. He sported a nose ring, several ear piercings, and a bar through his lower lip. His wore a sleeveless white t-shirt and orange pants, and his hands and feet were shackled closely together, a chain attaching his hands and feet as well.

"Well," he said, grinning to reveal a row of dazzling white teeth. He had a shaved head, with the beginnings of dark stubble beginning to show, and beady dark eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. He was no one to mess with. "Are these the fine young men who are going to protect little old me?"

He was American, though there was some kind of accent layered on top. I couldn't tell what. His eyes surveyed the dock, and the transporters on either side of him guided him quickly to the back of the delivery truck we'd be using. In doing so, he passed us, and his eyes settled on me. They stayed there.

He grinned, and I was reminded of a shark. He had half a foot on me easy, and I hated looking up at him. "And who might _you_ be?"

"One of the fine young men who's going to be escorting you," I said, trying to keep my voice even and toneless.

His eyes looked me up and down. "Fine young man indeed." I tried not to flinch. One of the men jerked him along, and he glanced back my way before walking forward again, saying something snide to one of the men beside him.

Lion patted my shoulder. "Don't sit next to him. I don't want him near you."

"I wasn't planning on it," I admitted, watching him. "I appreciate it, but I can handle myself, you know."

Lion looked up, making sure Hollis wasn't looking our way, and tousled my hair. "I know you can, but I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it, you don't have to."

"Yeah, I don't like him," Bear commented, bumping my shoulder. "He's a creep. It's normal to be freaked out."

I shrugged. "I was warned twice. I've got the message."

"Twice?" Tiger asked, looking confused. While he wasn't nearly as open about it as Lion or Bear, I could tell he wasn't happy, either.

Oh. Oops. "Sergeant warned me before we left. He had more discretion."

Lion frowned. "Tell us next time. That's what a unit's for. We look out for each other."

I looked away. "Fine." It wasn't worth arguing over.

The transporters got Hollis secured to his seat (which had been specially equipped with harnesses and the like) and instructed us on how to use each of them before we departed. During this, Hollis' eyes roamed, but he kept looking back at me. I steadfastly avoided his eyes, refusing to give him the pleasure.

Finally, when it was time to move out, we took our seats inside the delivery truck and closed the doors. We'd be driving eight hours today, stopping once for food and once again for bathroom and gas, and then stopping at an old German military base that hadn't been used, but had been maintained for foreign necessity.

The others in my unit climbed in before me, Lion and Tiger resolutely taking the seats beside Hollis before I'd even climbed inside. The seats were three or so feet apart, so it wasn't like riding a bus next to him, but I was glad I wouldn't have to be closer to him than necessary. I'd expected Lion to, but Tiger surprised me. He might've been more of a softie than I thought he was.

I considered. Maybe…this wasn't so bad. This whole…having people looking out for you, thing.

It hadn't been bad so far. It had been conflicting, and worrying, but…not bad.

I'd consider. I didn't have to decide anything right away.

With a small jerk, we pulled out of the dock and were on our way.

The delivery truck had small holes in the sides, enough to allow proper air flow. I used them to watch the scenery rush past, though it made me a bit dizzy at times. Still, it was better than looking at Hollis, who'd been looking at me almost this entire time.

I bloody hated this feeling. It felt like my skin was crawling.

"So," Hollis said, his voice reverberating. I flinched, and then bloody hated myself for it, because I saw him grin out of the corner of my eye. I was on edge, and he knew. "You, the little one. What's your name?"

I didn't answer. If I didn't engage with him, maybe he'd take the hint and leave it.

That only seemed to egg him on more, though. "Strong silent type? Now that's something I didn't expect out of you."

"Quiet," Tiger snapped, crossing his arms. "We're not here for conversation."

"No?" Hollis asked, raising an eyebrow. "But it's so quiet without it. And he looks like he's got interesting stories to tell. I'm all for a good story, but I'd like to know your name! What do you say?"

"I'm gonna bloody gag him," Tiger muttered.

"Oh, unfortunately that's not allowed," Hollis commented, looking smug. "I know my rights."

"This isn't America," Bear commented, and I'd never heard the happy, buoyant guy sound so cold. I shot him a look, only to see that his posture reflected his voice. He didn't like this any more than I did. None of them did.

"No, but you still treat people with respect, I'm sure," he said, eyes glinting. He looked at me, and I made the mistake of looking at him as he did so. "Oh, pretty eyes, kiddo. I was worried you'd never look at me!"

I looked away. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"I heard earlier that you guys use animal codenames," Hollis commented, chattering on like he would with a friend. "So can I at least know those? If I need to ask for something?" I kept silent, as did the other three. "If I guess and get it right, will you let me know?"

No one responded. Tiger tapped his foot impatiently.

"Hm," he said, and even looking away, I could feel him staring at me intently. "Kiddie…maybe yours would be…I dunno, Dog?" He paused, and I waited for the punchline. "No, no…maybe Bitch," he said, a sly grin stretching over his teeth. "That would be a suitable occupation for you, I bet."

"Oh, I'm gonna bloody kill 'im," Tiger muttered, reaching for his bag.

"Tiger," I said quietly. He looked up at me, as did Hollis. "It's fine. He can say whatever he wants." I looked at Hollis, then, steeling myself. "I don't give a damn."

Lion smiled, looking away to hide it.

Hollis smiled, too, but it was very, very different. "That's okay. It's no fun if you go off when I'm just getting started."

I looked away again, propping my chin up on my hand. We were passing through more rolling fields, leaving the city further and further behind. I wished I was back on holiday with Jack and Ian. Anywhere but here, really.

"Fine, fine. I'll try something else. How old are you?"

Again, I remained silent. Lion didn't, though. I could tell he was getting fed up. His voice was calm, but his eyes were dark. "Take the hint, Hollis. No one here is going to talk to you like you want."

"Oh, that's fine," Hollis said, waving a shackled hand. "I'll just talk, don't mind me."

And he did. For four bloody hours until we stopped for food. His words ranged from harmless, to cruel, to absolutely intended to draw a reaction, and by the time we stopped, I was ready to tear my hair out.

As soon as the wheels stopped turning, before the truck was even settled, I was out of my seat and headed for the door. "What, tired of me already?" Hollis called behind me as I jumped down, brushing past Jacques, who'd unlocked the doors.

We were in a clearing behind a thick copse of trees, just off the road. A lonely little diner sat across the street, but the foreseeable stretch of land beyond the trees was otherwise deserted.

I stopped at a sturdy looking tree and braced myself against it, taking a shuddering breath.

That was bloody awful.

"Are you alright?" Lion's quiet voice asked behind me.

I inhaled, turning around and leaning back against the tree. "Yes. He's just a prick."

Lion laughed. "Can't argue with that. Let me know if you want to switch vehicles."

I shook my head. "No. It sucks, sure, but I'm not giving him the satisfaction." I shifted, looking away. "Thank you, for being…you know."

He smiled. "You're welcome. I told you, we've got your back."

He leaned on the tree across from me and sat. I took it as an invitation to do the same. "Bear's pretty fond of you, you know. He likes finally having someone younger than him around."

I smirked. "Guess he needed someone around his own age. He's a ball of energy."

Lion grinned. "That he is. And believe it or not, Tiger's very protective of his unit. That includes you."

I raised an eyebrow, dubious.

"I'm serious," Lion said, folding his hands behind his head. "You've seen him with Bear, haven't you?"

I had. Tiger was different with Bear. I could tell immediately that Bear was very important to Tiger; it was evident through his actions and his words, though only to someone who was watching. And Bear seemed to know, and reciprocated the affection, however hidden.

"What he did in there?" Lion said, nodding towards the delivery truck. "How he got so angry when Hollis started goading you? That's something he'd do for Bear or me."

I looked away, feeling heat flame in my cheeks. "Why are you telling me this?"

"To prove to you, since you're so stubborn and unwilling to realize it, that we've wholeheartedly accepted you into our unit, and you're not allowed to do anything about it." Lion shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "To be honest, I didn't think it would happen. But…you're a much better kid than you make yourself out to be."

I scoffed.

"See? You're doing it again. You put yourself down far too much, and you don't even realize it." I ignored him, but he just smirked when my eye twitched.

The Frenchmen, who'd been milling about, seemed to disperse. Jules came over to us. "I am going to bring the food back here to eat," he said slowly, though his pronunciation was quite good. "What would you like? It has simple English and French options."

"Fish and chips?" I ventured, relieved when he nodded. I wasn't in the mood for any surprises. Or, God forbid, duck.

"Make that four orders," Lion said. "The other two will probably want that, anyways."

Jules nodded. "Do you know what the package prefers?"

"Go in the back and scoop something out of the garbage, for all I care," I muttered, turning my head away.

Lion laughed. "Just another order of fish and chips," he said. Jules nodded and left, George and Vinny—if I remembered correctly—accompanying him.

"Lion," I said quietly, not looking at him. I felt heat flame in my cheeks. "If I…if I accept what you're offering…you know, to be…a real member of the unit…" I took a deep breath, steadfastly ignoring his intent gaze. "Could I do it without revealing anything? I can't…I can't do that. Definitely not yet."

Lion smiled. "Of course, squirt. Rome wasn't built in a day. You can reveal things as you need to."

"On the condition of you never call me squirt again," I said, turning back to him with murder in my eyes.

He laughed, though, and looked unashamed. "Nope. Unit members have exclusive rights to use any nicknames we want."

"Fine, arsehole," I shot back.

"That's fine, half-pint," he retorted, and it was easy.

It was so damn easy.

The past minute had been a conversation I promised myself I'd never have. I promised myself I'd never accept this. Never, ever.

But…Hollis freaked me out, and I thought I was going to have to do it alone, like I did everything else, but then…then the idiots _bodily_ put themselves between me and him, even though they didn't know what he was capable of or what he might do. They spoke up on my behalf. They…they gave a damn.

And unless I'd been missing the past month, I didn't think I'd done nearly enough to earn that. Which meant they were…giving it. Just…just giving it.

If they were giving it, and I didn't have to…to earn it…maybe I could let myself accept it. At least a little.

I couldn't call them family yet, not even close, and I didn't know if I'd ever be able to. We'd only known each other a month. But…

…but it wouldn't hurt to call them friends.

**A/N: Holy crap, two chapters in three days? I'm on a roll!**

**I hope you enjoyed my baby finally finding someone to rely on :) I love my kiddos. Let me know what you thought about it!**

**Also, it looks like this mission is going to take up a few chapters, which I didn't anticipate, so…yeah. Just updating you XD**

**As always, thank you to my stellar reviewers: Raalina, Owlqueen08, Nrandom, Eliida, OnlyABookworm, Riderkitty, hunterjk123, and otterpineapple06! You're all wonderful! **

**Thanks so much to everyone following and favoriting. I appreciate you all! **

**Please drop a review if you have a minute :) they make me uber happy. Thanks! **


	9. Chapter 8

**Warning: Some more suggestive comments that might be triggering. Stay safe!**

Despite the newfound companionship I felt with the rest of my unit, which was really, really nice after seven months of intense loneliness and uncertainty, the mission continued to deteriorate.

Hollis's comments became more scathing as the night wore on. After dinner we'd driven four more hours, stopping Germany just a half hour from the Czech border. The new plan included camping instead of staying at inns (which sucked) because of the newfound knowledge that our presence would most likely put innocent bystanders in mortal danger.

We'd been equipped with sleeping bags and extra blankets and a thin pillow, but the night was cold and the earth was hard and damp. As we set up camp, letting a fire smolder dimly as we tried to get warm without giving up too much smoke, two of the Frenchmen escorted Hollis to his designated pocket in the center of the group. He sat down cross-legged on his sleeping bag, looking around the campsite with his usual cocky smirk.

"Not exactly the Hilton," he said with stale disappointment, examining the ground beneath him. "Though I love the fauna theme. Very outdoor-sy."

For the most part, we paid him no mind, setting up the campsite. It wasn't due to rain, so we didn't bother with the provided tents, electing to keep ourselves as aware as possible. It would be difficult to distinguish friend from foe from the confines of an opaque tent.

The twelve of us set ourselves up in a pattern that spiraled outwards from the smoldering fire and Hollis, at the center. The four L-Unit members would form a square around him, and the eight Frenchmen would set themselves varying distances away in the clearing, covering all incoming vantage points.

There would be two people on watch at all times, and they would switch off every two hours to avoid fatigue. It was about eleven now, and we would be moving out no later than eight the next morning. Since, Jules insisted, we'd had such a rough day prior and we'd had to keep watch last night (which I belatedly realized the others had never woken me up for) the Frenchmen would take these eight hours before we all woke up at seven, and we'd take our turns the next night.

Lion agreed (through Tiger) with a gracious smile and a nod of thanks. "Good, I'm bloody exhausted," he said with a laugh. Bear and Tiger looked relieved, too.

"You should have woken me up to keep watch last night," I said with a displeased frown, making my way to my sleeping bag. "I was expecting to be woken up at some point."

"You looked so peaceful we couldn't wake you," Bear said with a teasing grin. "Besides, we hardly see you sleep at all. You're up when we go to sleep, and you're up when we wake up, and you roam around in the middle of the night all the bloody time. We figured you could use it."

Heat flamed in my cheeks and I quickly turned away, muttering a thank you.

Looking around, I saw that the Frenchmen had already changed or were changing into their sleepwear, and two of them were guarding Hollis as he changed, restraints on hand for when he was done. I looked quickly away before he could see me and make some comment about my staring.

Grabbing up my t-shirt and sweatpants, I whispered to Lion, "I'll be back," and headed for the trees.

Changing quickly, I relished the silence for a moment, leaning back against a tree. I stopped, for just a moment, and let the peaceful solitude wash over me, closing my eyes and breathing in the fresh earth. Despite the fact that camping wasn't one of my favorite pastimes, it made me feel close to Ian, for a moment. He insisted I at least know how to camp and survive in the wilderness, should I even need to.

I opened my eyes slowly, the memory of him smiling as he waved goodbye the last time before that mission etched behind my eyes.

I missed him. I missed him so much.

I sighed, feeling my peaceful bubble break, and trekked back to the campsite.

Hollis' restraints had been replaced, his feet and ankles chained together, and the chains on his ankles were attached to a compact metal box that probably weighed at least fifty pounds.

As I made my way back to my bag, he saw me out of the corner of his eye and smiled. A shiver ran up my spine, but I didn't let it show, instead looking away and focusing intently on my bag, sitting down to rifle through my bag.

"I thought you'd gone and left me," he said with an air of indignation. "Still shy about changing in front of the other boys? You're not _that_ young, are you?"

I ignored him, though I felt my eye twitch. Luckily, he didn't see.

"Shut up and lie down," Bear said, and it sounded almost like he'd growled the words. The usually chipper man looked as wrung out as I felt.

I didn't know how I was going to sleep tonight with this monster just a stone's throw away from me. I pulled a paperback out of my bag and read it by the dim light of the smoldering logs, my eyes straining, as the others lay down and prepared to sleep.

Lion crouched besides me as I slouched back against my backpack in a futile search for a backrest, saying quietly, "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes," I said decidedly. I'd shown about as much vulnerability as I possibly could today, and if I showed anymore, I'd burst, crumble, or both. "He'll sleep eventually."

Lion didn't look wholly convinced, but he patted my shoulder and told me to wake him if I needed anything. I tried very hard not to scoff at his kind gesture. Yes, that was likely to happen. I'd shake him awake in the middle of a group of armed soldiers like a child waking their mother during a storm.

Instead I gave a nod of affirmation, and he went to his own bag, lying down to sleep.

The two Frenchmen on watch had lit cigarettes and were keeping a close eye on the tree lines, looking attentive, but I kept half an eye out anyways.

A half hour later, after reading what little I could in the darkness, I put the book down, intent on getting some sleep. I could tell by the sounds around me that most, if not all, of the men not on watch were asleep. I was sure I would toss and turn all night, surrounded by strangers and under the crude watch of an enemy, but I decided to at least try to rest.

"Finally giving in?" Hollis' voice startled me, and I couldn't quite contain a flinch. I glared in his direction, settling down into my bag and zipping it up around me. "Come on, I still don't know your name."

"Go to sleep," I ordered, making my voice as steely as I could.

"Why? I can just sleep tomorrow," he argued, and I was reminded of a whiny child asking that their bedtime be delayed. "Besides, it's too cold to sleep." He grinned. "Why don't you come keep me warm tonight? I'll make it worth your while."

"Why don't I just toss you right into the embers, then, shall I?" I muttered just loud enough for him to hear. "You'll be nice and warm all night, and cooked by morning, I'm sure."

"Am I finally getting to you, fearless little soldier?" He taunted, the leer evident in his voice. I lay down, rolling away from him, and tried very hard not to listen. "You lasted longer than I thought you would. I knew I picked a fun target."

"Target?" I questioned before I could stop myself, rolling over and sitting up to look at him. "I think you're missing the entire point of this entourage. At the moment, _you're_ the target, and I and all the other people here are the only thing between you and a one-way ticket to hell. So shut up, lie down, and sleep."

Resolved to give him absolutely no attention for the rest of the night, at the very least, I rolled away from him, shutting my eyes and wishing I could do the same to my ears. I expected an onslaught of taunts and jeers, but he just chuckled, letting out a sarcastic "Yes, sir" before I heard the fabric rustle as he lay back.

I tried to calm myself, to slow the thudding of my heart to alleviate the ache in my chest, but it was no use. I tried listening to the even breathing of the people around me, the hushed voices of the soldiers on watch, and I even tried some of the meditation techniques Sabina (_don't think about it, don't think about it_) had insisted I learn. None of it helped.

An hour or so later, I gave up, quietly extracting myself from my sleeping bag in favor of wandering the camp. I made my way through the sleeping bodies, trying not to wake anyone, towards the two Frenchmen on guard.

"Has it been quiet?" I asked in French. They responded likewise.

"Too quiet," one of them said, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "Even if it's only been half a day, based on all the people after him…I'd expected something by now, even if it was just a potshot or two."

The other nodded in assent. I felt bad that I couldn't remember their names, but I doubt they remembered mine, anyhow.

Truth be told, I was feeling on edge, myself. I'd grown to know when I was being watched—if I paid attention, it just felt like…the slightest feeling of unease dancing on my spine, but it was enough to alert me that something was amiss. The only problem was that I couldn't tell if it was from an actual threat or my unease towards Hollis.

"I'm going to walk the perimeter," I told them, offering a wave as I departed. "I'll stay within shouting distance."

They nodded, not seeming worried at my departing alone. I had my gun, and I knew how to defend myself. I'd be fine.

I walked slowly, scanning the area, looking for any twig or branch that looked tampered with by someone not of our party. I saw a couple things that caught my eye, but upon closer examination, they looked like natural animal trails.

I circled the area twice, still feeling uneasy, though I'd assured myself that there was nothing in the trees that would pose a threat.

The guards changed, then, and the two Frenchmen woke two of the others from their sleep, rousing them quietly.

In that moment of change, when no one should have been on their guard, they struck.

Unluckily for them, I _was_ on my guard.

The reason I hadn't caught them in the first place was because I had stupidly ignored the treetops, assuming that if someone _were_ to attack, they'd come the traditional way, on their feet. Instead, three of them dropped from the trees, guns up and ready to shoot.

Had I not been awake, alert, and coincidentally near them, I'm sure the four Frenchmen who were awake, caught unawares, would have died.

Luckily for them, two of them were distracted by my sudden appearance on their left, and I downed the first one with a shot to the femoral vein. She dropped her gun and fell with a cry, and I dropped with her, fully aware of the spray of bullets that cut through the space where my head should've been.

Instinctive shooting was severely underrated, I thought begrudgingly. _Don't think. Shoot_.

I shut my eyes as panic threatened to sabotage my shot, instead flinging my arm out and shooting from memory rather than sight. I heard another cry and thud, this one felled by a shot to his side. A spurt of blood from his mouth told me I'd hit a lung, and I figured I must have shot directly under his vest at an upward angle, to make a shot like that.

It scared me, but I couldn't let it slow me down.

The third assailant had taken a shot at one of the Frenchmen before he'd registered my presence, but now he whipped around, feeling my gun trained on him, and I was at his back before he knew what was going on. "Drop it," I said with steel in my voice, "unless you want to join your friends."

After a tense second of silence, during which those who had been (amazingly) still asleep had been roused and were collecting their own weapons as quickly as they could, the man dropped his gun. "Raise your arms."

He did. "Interlock your fingers." He did that too. I kicked the back of his knee, and he landed with a grunt and a curse. I shoved the muzzle of the gun into the back of his head, daring him to move.

The two assailants already down were reaching for their weapons, but the rest of my team was already there, restraining them. If I'd been alone, I probably would've been shot in the back by one of them, because I'd been so focused on making sure the last one didn't shoot anyone else.

Luckily, George, the Frenchman shot, wasn't seriously injured. It was a through-and-through to the shoulder; Bear said he'd been lucky. It bled quite a bit, but Bear put a pressure bandage on it and wrapped it tight. "It's fine for now, but you need to get to a hospital sooner rather than later," he said seriously.

While three of the Frenchmen and Tiger and I secured the attackers, keeping close watch over them, Bear came over to bind their wounds until they were picked up for transport and official arrest. "Lion and Jules are talking about what to do and they need an interpreter," Bear said, crouching beside the one who'd been shot in the lung. As Tiger left to go help them, Bear's brow furrowed. "He needs emergency field surgery if he's going to make it. I don't think I can do that with what I have."

Bear handed me a compression bandage and some disinfectant and said, "You did well in your medical eval; could you patch her up? This will take a while."

I nodded, silently taking the offered bandages and crouching beside the woman, who was doing a valiant job of not moaning in pain. She'd already bled a considerable amount.

"Coddling your enemies doesn't seem like the best thing to do," she spat as I rolled her over, inspecting her leg.

"That's what makes us different," I said quietly, forcing myself to believe the words.

I'd just shot two people, and one of them may die. My hands were shaking.

She scoffed, crying out in pain as I poured disinfectant into the wound. The bullet was still stuck in her leg, so at least she was only bleeding from one place. I fought to urge to offer a soft apology, instead forcing the compression bandage up her leg and over the wound, flinching when she cried out again.

My hands were absolutely _trembling_.

"I will finish," a voice said in front of me, crouching on the other side of the woman and reaching for the roll of bandages in my bloody hands. I looked up, surprised he'd gotten so close without my knowing, and saw Jacques. He took the bandage from me and nodded, giving me permission to back away. I didn't even trust my voice enough to thank him.

I stood quickly, distancing myself from the bleeding bodies on the ground, taking my gun and stumbling quickly to my bag. I doused it in water, cleaning it efficiently, and then washed the blood from my hands, packing my bag. We wouldn't stay here, I was sure; our position was far too compromised.

"That was quite a show," Hollis commented, and I flinched in surprise at his grating voice, feeling very close to losing my mind. "I didn't think you had that in you."

I didn't dignify that with an answer.

"Jaguar," Lion called. I looked up, and he beckoned me towards him, Jules, and Tiger, where they'd formed a tight circle, foreheads all creased in thought and worry.

"Yeah?" I said as I approached, my voice much steadier than the rest of me.

"First of all, thank you," he said seriously, clapping me on the shoulder. "You've saved us yet again, and I'm a little embarrassed at this point. It feels like you've done this whole mission on your own."

I felt the blush creeping up my neck, and felt my eyebrows pinch together. "I feel like this is the most I've relied on people in a long time," I disagreed, too tired to even think of chastising myself for the reveal. I was tired, and hungry, and in shock, and I overall felt like shit. "If you hadn't gotten to those other two when you did, they'd've shot me in the back."

Lion smirked, but his eyes still looked dark. "Still. Anyways, the French embassy has worked with a nearby German hospital to send a helicopter, and they're going to transport the wounded. Another transport van is going to come to fetch the uninjured attacker. We wanted your opinion. How should we handle this from here on out?"

I blinked in surprise, looking at Tiger for confirmation, who shrugged. "You're a pain in the arse sometimes, kid, but you know what you're doing."

Finally, I looked at Jules, who nodded.

_Don't think. Shoot_.

"We can't stay here," I said letting my mind go into overdrive, like I had on the train the other day. I didn't think about their reactions, or the circumstances—I only let my training and my experience dictate the words coming out of my mouth. Emotion had not place here—only cold analysis. "Our position's been entirely compromised. Before we find out how, we need to get somewhere safe. Tiger, would you question the uninjured attacker? I doubt we'll get much, but see if he lets anything slip before transport shows up." Tiger nodded tightly, turning away and stalking over towards Bear and the others.

"We can't stop anymore," I continued on. "Obviously there's either a spy in the ranks, or the plan's been leaked. Jules, I'm sorry, but I trust L-Unit and you with this information, and nobody else. What we say doesn't leave here, understand?" Jules looked pained, like he wanted to argue, but nodded tersely.

"We should move Hollis to one of the convoy vehicles," I said quickly, looking around on instinct to make sure nothing else was amiss. "If our route has been leaked, everything in the operation has become null. They'll know he's in the delivery truck. Put him in the car behind the truck; if they attack while we're driving, they'll go for the front one first, to distract the delivery truck driver."

I stopped to catch my breath, my thoughts racing. "I don't know how, but they knew exactly where we'd be staying, even though the plan was just changed this morning. There's a spy here, a spy in the brass, or they've been following us since Paris…" I said almost to myself, rehashing my previous ideas to sort through them.

"Sweep the vehicles before we move out," I said, "and be thorough. They may have planted a tracking device on one of them after they'd been checked by the DRM."

I looked at our remaining forces. Luckily, we were only one man down, but that would change our whole dynamic. "Put Jacques," who I liked well enough to think he probably wasn't a spy, "Hollis, me, and…Jules, another Frenchman that you trust with your life, in the back car. Lion and Bear will drive the delivery truck, and four Frenchmen can ride in the back. I'm afraid to put Tiger and Jules in the front car, because that's the one they'll probably go for first, but it's our best option…"

My thoughts were still racing as I worked out the rest of the details. "As long as nothing happens, we'll continue to switch out drivers – six hour shifts, no less. We break for bathroom every three hours, and food every six. When we break for food we get it and keep driving. There's about nineteen hours left on the journey, but I ant to make it at least twenty-one and make a few detours. It's risky, but if we confuse whoever's in watching us, however they're doing it, it'll make it harder for them to plan and launch an attack." I took a breath, looking back at them. "And I recommend we get going the second the wounded and prisoners are out of here."

Jules was two words away from catching flies. He stared at me with wide eyes, looking to Lion, who shrugged with a smile. "He's an enigma. Don't worry about it."

Lion tousled my hair without warning, and I resisted the urge to bat his hand away, frowning. "Knew we could count on you. I hate to ask, but go get Hollis prepped for transport. We'll need to secure him as best we can in the convoy vehicle, so Jules and I will pull it around and get started on it."

I nodded wordlessly, my heart skipping a beat at the thought of being so close to Hollis, but I told myself to get over it and get it done. There was work to do.

The distant _thump thump thump_ of helicopter blades entered my awareness as I made my way to the package, and I was glad. Maybe that man would survive after all. I didn't want to be the one who killed him.

"Sit up," I said tersely; Hollis was lying relaxed on his sleeping bag, two Frenchmen standing guard over him. "We're getting you prepped for transport."

Hollis opened one eye and grinned at me. "I like it when you're commanding. It's so different from how you look."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes and took the key from one of the Frenchmen's extended hands, watching warily out of the corner of my eye as Hollis sat up. "Put your feet out."

He did without complaint, and I unlocked his shackled feet from the metal box, quickly reattaching the shackle on his feet to the one on his wrists. As I turned to give the key back to the Frenchmen I'd gotten it from, I felt a hand brush my face.

My reaction was not as dignified as I wanted it to be, but the unwelcome presence nearly sent me into a panic, since I was already so on edge. My gun was against his crotch before he could move another inch.

_When you're in a real bind, _Ian's voice rang in my head, _and you need to get away or buy yourself some time, go for below the belt. It'll slow any man down_.

"Get your hand off me," I ordered calmly. His face had quickly drained of color, and he risked a glance down. "Unless you want to lose something important."

He went very still for just a second, and I heard one of the Frenchmen snort, then come to my aid. He grabbed the offending hand and shoved it away from me, returning my thankful nod with one of his own.

"I was just looking at your hair," Hollis recovered smoothly, though his complexion was still sickly as I took my time putting my gun away.

_Damn. That felt so much better than it should have_.

"Why do you dye it? You'd look good with fair hair."

_Shit._ Was it that noticeable? "That's none of your business," I said, standing and backing up a few paces. The helicopter was descending rapidly, and the wind was tearing at our clothes. It settled on the other side of the clearing, and quickly four or five medics jumped from the settled aircraft, racing to Bear's side.

"Your friend stopped working on the one he was so frantic about," Hollis said with a cruel smile, obviously fully recovered.

The words threw me, and I turned quickly to look, to see that indeed, Bear was making sure the woman had enough fluids, and the man I'd shot was…flat on his back. Not moving. Not breathing.

I faltered. One of the Frenchmen quickly grabbed my shoulder to steady me, but I shrugged it off, unable to be okay with being touched in that moment.

I hated the feeling I got in my gut after I killed, directly or otherwise. It felt like with every life I took, another little piece of me was chipped off and sucked away for good. Like it was one more crumbling brick closer to my unraveling.

"Now you're just like me," Hollis said, and his voice came to me through roaring waves crashing through my ears. "Just another murderer."

"Say anything like that again and we'll leave you to the wolves," I registered Tiger's voice coming up behind us. I turned detachedly to look at him, but his eyes were focused solely on Hollis, burning with anger. If his eyes could have burned holes in Hollis' head, they would have. "He saved our lives, including yours."

Hollis smirked, leaning back. "Whatever you say, soldier boy."

Tiger growled.

Tiger nudged my arm and led me away from him a bit. "Don't listen to him. He's just a prick."

I nodded dazedly. I really wasn't feeling good after that.

"Are you sure you'll be alright with him?" Tiger asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Lion told me your configuration. I don't like it."

"I don't either," I admitted, looking back at the medics rushing around the two injured, escorting them quickly into the helicopter. The transport vehicle for the uninjured prisoner had since shown up, and he was being loaded. "But I want someone from L-Unit in every car. We don't know if there's a spy, so I don't want one car operating independently if the spy is driving. Bear needs to be away from Hollis; he's the only medic, so if Hollis' car _is_ targeted and there are casualties, he needs to be okay. I trust Lion and him to drive the delivery vehicle, and I trust you to make sure the front car is running okay. You have a bigger presence than I do, so if the spy is up front, he'll be more aware of you. I put Jules with you just in case."

"Leaving you effectively alone," he said, his displeasure evident.

"I didn't think you cared this much," I said without thinking. My filter was really off today.

Tiger blinked. "Maybe I don't show it because I don't coddle you, but I care about what happens to my unit, arsehole."

I dragged a hand down my face, looking away. "I'm sorry. I'm just…worn out. This has been a cluster from the start."

Tiger grumbled, but I could tell he wasn't angry with me, for which I was grateful. I don't think I could have handled that. "I still think it'd be better if Lion or I was with Hollis instead. Don't make yourself a martyr."

The offer was tempting, but I knew I wouldn't accept. With the word "friend", which I'd grudgingly accepted these three idiots to be earlier in the day, came the nearly unbearable burden of what would happen when my presence finally caught up with them.

Just as it had with Yassen, Ash, Jack, Sabina, and even Tom, who'd been shot before I finally decided to cut off contact with him.

They were worried about me, and wanted to protect me, and I would forever be grateful for the knowledge that I wasn't entirely alone in the world. But that meant I would protect them until my dying breath to repay that kindness, and there wasn't a damn thing they could do to stop me.

"Thank you," I said genuinely. "For that and for what you did back there. But I think this is the best setup."

Tiger looked dubious, but acquiesced. "Fine. If you get uncomfortable let one of us know."

I nodded, though it was mostly to appease him than anything else.

The next half hour was a blur of loading and prepping, and then we were on the road. I'd quickly claimed the passenger seat, unwilling to be trapped in the backseat with Hollis, with Jacques driving and Vinny in the backseat. Despite my exhaustion, I knew with Hollis' sporadic prattling, the hum of the engine beneath me, and the twisting in my gut, sleep was far off.

I propped my head on my hand and leaned against the door, watching the darkened scenery whiz by as we raced down the deserted road, desperate to reach Kiev. Desperate to be rid of the parasite sitting behind me who scared me much more than I would ever admit to anyone but myself.

Desperate to return to the relative safety of Brecon Beacons.

Maybe just…desperate.

I was sixteen, and world-weary, and it shook me when I realized that no one had called me _Alex_ in a very, very long time, and that it actually bothered me greatly.

I wasn't even sure if Alex really existed anymore. But Matthew didn't exist either. He never had. Who was I if I wasn't either of them?

I was giving up more and more information about myself, and the others were beginning to see through the cracks in this shield I'd worked so hard to forge. I was sure I could do it. I was sure that I could hide in plain sight for just _two years_, until I was no longer under MI6's guardianship. Then I'd be free, I told myself. If I could just make it two years.

It had been one month. One month, and I was desperate for everything to just…stop.

To just…stop the world, for just five minutes, and take the silence to figure out who I was, what I wanted, and what was going to become of me. Unfortunately, Father Time had no such intentions, and the thoughts of uncertainty and despair plagued me for the next several hundred miles.

Those, and the words _Just another murderer_, echoing like a macabre anthem.

_Desperate for the world to stop. Just for five minutes. _One_ minute. _

_Desperate_.

**A/N: I swear, I really didn't mean for it to get that dark at the end, but it's a build-up for another issue we'll face later on, so forgive me!**

**I think I'm going to try to make this a slower-burn series, because I want to explore all the real issues that our poor boy is facing right now—months of isolation and years of trauma and loss don't just go away when you make friends, so I want to make this ****_real_****. I hope you'll stick with it! **

**I do want to say, I'm not trying to make the soldiers seem stupid or incompetent or inattentive—they're none of those things. They're all very brave young men who wanted to serve their country. As Alex / Matthew / Jaguar said, this mission has been a cluster from the beginning, and no one told them (because they didn't know) just how bad it would be, and they're all kind of floundering because they're only human.**

**Anyways, I hope you liked it regardless! As is my custom, I would like to sincerely thank everyone who has followed and favorited, and especially to everyone who has reviewed on the last chapter (and previous chapters): SlightlyInsaneBooknerd, otterpineapple06, Bumbee, Guest, Guest, Guest, Aimael, Em0wolf, RiderKitty, OnlyaBookworm, AureliaCotta, Guest, Buttermilkbells, and Night Riders! **

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**Guest (I was so happy): Thanks so much! Ugh I LOVE their protectiveness **

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**As always, please stay safe, wash your hands, and stay home as much as you can! Love you all, and thank you for reading! **


	10. Chapter 9

The next eight hours continued without incident, and then everything went to Hell in a Hollis-shaped handbasket.

I still wasn't feeling well, and after managing to doze against the window for an hour, I somehow felt worse. Hollis' incessant prattling in the back wasn't helping anything, either. Bloody hell, he could talk about _anything_, all by himself. He was constantly commenting on the landscape, the weather, the names of the towns we passed…his German accent was rubbish, which was I'm sure most of the reason he even tried.

Jacques kept sending me concerned glances, and I even caught Vinny in the back sending me a glance in the rearview mirror. I could feel my breathing getting heavier, but I didn't know what was causing it. I hadn't been injured anymore than my arm, which ached considerably, but that was to be expected with all the moving around I did last night.

I leaned my forehead on the cool glass and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath through my nose. I was trying to keep alert, but the exhaustion was weighing on me. I'd managed to keep the others from noticing during our break a couple hours ago, but I'd deteriorated a lot since then.

What was wrong with me?

"You're not looking stellar," Hollis said from the back, and I heard him lean forward as much as the harness would allow, inspecting the back of my head. I shivered, but didn't give him any attention. "Need a hot water bottle? I've been told I'm practically a furnace."

I didn't respond. I wasn't not sure how much Vinny and Jacques understood, because they sent a confused glance our way, but made no comment. Vinny, who'd switched to the driver's seat after our last break, put a hand on my shoulder.

"Are you okay?" He asked in French, looking quickly between me and the road. French intelligence agents were much more openly concerned than English ones, apparently. That was both comforting and a hassle. "Do we need to stop?"

I shook my head, feeling a bead of sweat roll down my temple. I unconsciously gripped my arm, the pain nearly making me nauseous. "We can't afford to. How long until we stop again?"

Vinny checked the tablet on the dash giving us virtual directions, equipped with an internal encrypter to scramble the signal to any prying eyes, so they wouldn't be able to glean our location from it. "Forty minutes."

I nodded, closing my eyes and trying to calm my roiling stomach, clutching my arm. "That's fine. Bear can…look at me then."

Vinny, with one last concerned glance at my arm, nodded.

"Don't tell me you're sick, soldier boy," Hollis said, and though I was expecting a snide comment, it still made my head pound even harder. "You talked such a big game. You're gonna let a little something like this slow you down?"

"Quiet," Jacques said, his voice loud and commanding in the small space of the car. The rumbling engine wasn't helping my nausea any, but I refused, with all my remaining pride, to get carsick in front of this lunatic.

"Just concerned for the well-being of the fine young soldier," Hollis defended, leaning back. I heard a rustle of fabric and the clanking of the cuffs, but I wouldn't let myself look. If I didn't give him any attention, maybe he'd stop fixating on me.

I managed to doze for the next half hour, jostled into awareness only when Vinny gently braked, pulling into a lonely little gas station. I opened my eyes and blearily glanced inside in an effort to check for threats, seeing a single yawning store attendant behind the counter, reading a magazine with Slavic characters. We must have crossed into the Czech Republic, I thought dimly.

To be honest, I didn't even realize that Jacques and Vinny had gotten out of the car. I was too out of it to notice much. Even when Bear came around to my door and opened it, I didn't realize anything was amiss. If not for Bear's quick reflexes and the seatbelt, I would've fallen right out onto the cold pavement.

"Shit," Bear said, his face falling in concern when he saw just how out of it I was. "Jaguar? Jaguar, mate, I need you to wake up."

"Hm?" I said thickly, blinking. "M'awake."

"Lion, Tiger, I need some help," Bear called, clicking my seatbelt as I lay limp in the seat. I wasn't this bad a few minutes ago. What was going on with me? "I'm glad, kid, but I need you to stay that way. We're going to move you to the transport van and get you lying flat, so I can take a look at you. _Shit_, you're burning up…"

I thought I might have nodded. "Think it's…my arm…?" I said uncertainly, the fire in my arm seeming to be the root of the fire in my body.

"Your arm?" With dizzying speed, I was hefted into someone's arms and carted quickly across the pavement, before I was lowered onto the cool metal of the transport van's floor. Opening my eyes slightly, I saw blurred forms around me, recognizing Bear's frantic movements and Lion and Tiger's watchful gazes.

Man. My first SAS mission and I was already the damsel in distress. So much for proving myself as capable.

I made a sound of pain, tossing my head and hissing as Bear peeled the bandages away from the wound on my arm, letting out a string of curses that sounded nothing like the amiable, bouncy medic I'd come to know. I was too out of it to remember the pain management tactics I knew.

"Oh, Christ," Lion said, peering at the wound with morbid curiosity.

"He's borderline septic," Bear said, rummaging through the first aid kit at his side. "The knife must have been rusted, or coated in something we missed. He was fine just a day ago." He examined the wound more closely, and I flinched, the wound throbbing in time with my racing heart. "His stitches are torn—must've torn them last night, when we were attacked. Why didn't you say anything?"

I took a labored breath, staring at the swaying ceiling. "I…didn't know." No wonder I felt so off last night; it had been the beginning of the infection setting in, but I'd attributed it to the manifestation of my guilt after killing that man. "It didn't…hurt that much…"

"Should I call for a Med-Evac?" Tiger said quickly, phone in hand.

But I knew by the time the SAS or the DRM collaborated with the Czech government, or a nearby hospital (which was bound to be miles away, as we were in the middle of absolutely nowhere in the Czech countryside), got the transport here, and got me airlifted away somewhere, we'd be well past our allotted stopping time. With all the uncertainties that came with this mission, I didn't want to risk it.

"There's no time," I breathed, trying to sit up. A firm hand on my chest stopped that ill-fated endeavor, but I wasn't one to give up so easily. "Something's weird about this whole thing…we don't have…time to wait for transport."

"Jaguar, you're nearly _septic_," Bear stressed, eyes pinched in anger and concern. It had been a while since anyone looked at me like that. Tom used to do that, when I told him bits of my missions. "Your pulse is racing, your temperature is skyrocketing, and you're already having trouble breathing. This could be deadly."

"I've gone farther…with worse," I managed, dragging my good forearm over my forehead in an attempt to keep sweat from rolling into my eyes. "Standard antibiotics and some…fluids should hold me over until we're…done with the mission."

Bear scoffed and shook his head, sinking back on his heels. "I'll run a line, but I really, really think we should call a Med-Evac," he conceded, rummaging through the kit and emerging with a bag of saline and a needle with some tubing. "Lion, it's your call."

I glanced at Lion, who looked concerned, sending furtive glances my way and then towards the trucks. Despite that, I couldn't tell what he was thinking, and I didn't like it. Tiger watched on passively, eyebrows furrowed, looking between the three of us.

"It's not a good situation," I conceded, taking a heavy breath, my chest aching a bit as my heart rate sped up. "But we need…to get the package delivered."

"My men come first, not the mission, Jaguar," Lion said decisively, shaking his head. "I don't know how it was where you came from, but that's how it is in the SAS."

I closed my eyes, frustrated and tired. "That's…my _point_. If we…stay here too long…" I took a deep breath, and it was harder than it should've been. "…then _no one's_ getting…back safely."

Bear busied himself with inserting the IV line, and handing the saline bag to Tiger, who held it up so the line would drip properly, but I could tell they were both watching Lion intently.

Lion, for his part, had his eyebrows pinched together in concern and deep thought, staring at a point in space far away. He looked out the back doors, where the Frenchmen were patrolling, getting food from the gas station, and refilling, sending us concerned glances as they did so. Vinny and Jacques were detailing the car with Hollis, keeping a watchful eye both on the package and the surroundings.

"We'll back you up, whatever you decide," Tiger said quietly, sending me a glance. "And you will too, Jaguar."

Sighing through my nose, I could only nod. "You're point. It's…your decision."

Lion shook his head. "We're calling you a Med-Evac. I told you we lost someone. I'm not losing another friend, especially not for a prick like Hollis."

I sighed in resignation even as Bear let out a breath of relief, situating more gauze and the suture kit for the patch job he'd try to do before the Med-Evac reached us. I ignored the flutter in my chest at the word friend. It had been a while since I'd had one of those, and hearing it confirmed was…nice.

Turning my attention back to the situation, I said, "At least…_consider_… leaving me in the gas station and…continuing on."

"No."

I sent him a look. "You didn't—"

"No, Jaguar. Not happening. I know it's America's slogan, but no man left behind, not on my watch."

I shook my head. "You're too damn…good for your own good."

He shrugged, sending me a worried smile. "Can't blame me for that, squirt."

I scoffed. "Squirt, my ass."

"Med-Evac will be here in forty minutes, maybe," Tiger said, his face grim. "The DRM said the Czech government will probably be…a little unhappy with them, because they didn't get approval; the original plan didn't take us through here, so they didn't think it was necessary. They'll be in a pissing contest for a while, but they swear they'll start negotiations soon."

"I'll go talk to Jules," Lion said, standing to leave. "Let him know about the change in plans. Jaguar, you gonna be okay for that long?"

I gave a half-smile and a thumbs up, but I wasn't feeling so hot. I could only hope they couldn't tell.

"You're the only guy I know who would go into septic shock and want to continue the damn mission," Bear mumbled, threading the needle through my arm for the first stitch. He may have numbed it. It didn't hurt as much as it should've. "We're having a discussion about your distinct lack of self-preservation the second we're back on base."

"I'm not septic yet," I defended weakly.

Bear raised an eyebrow. "You're on your way. Discussion is still happening."

Tiger gave a grunt of assent, watching Lion talk to Jules outside. I lifted my head a little to look; they were by the transport vehicle not containing Hollis, the other Frenchmen milling about, keeping watch. They'd long since finished pumping gas.

Forty minutes was going to be too long, especially since this was supposed to be one of our ten minute stops. It was the perfect ambush site: one single witness, easily disposed of, no passerby's, the middle of nowhere with no obstructions around…

"Oi," Bear said, shocking me out of my reverie. I was sweating again, and my eyes were slipping closed. I blinked heavily up at him, his blurred features a bit difficult to make out. "Eyes open. Stay awake."

I nodded sluggishly, glancing around. Tiger was somehow keeping a watchful eye on both us and Lion, and holding my saline bag at the same time. Bear put a hand on my forehead and I flinched, not expecting the cool touch. It felt good against my overheated skin; I resisted the urge to lean into his touch, like I had Jack's when I was younger, and she'd check for a fever.

"You're too hot," he mumbled. "How do you feel?"

"A bit better," I said quietly, because I knew that's what he wanted to hear. "The fluids…are helping."

He quirked an eyebrow. "You're a bad liar, kiddo."

I barked an exhausted laugh. "Sure." If only he knew.

"Talk to me about something. Whatever you want. I want you to stay alert," he said, taking the saline bag from Tiger. "Can you go find him a water bottle or something?"

"Yeah. Keep an eye out," Tiger responded, slipping from the van with one last backward glance.

"What do you…want me to talk about?" I asked, blinking sweat out of my eyes. I felt bloody _awful_.

"Anything," he said, holding the bag up a bit higher. "What do you like to do in your free time? Not that we ever have any."

I gave a breathless laugh. "Um…I like to…read, I suppose."

He nodded. "Tiger likes to read, too. I never liked it, but I suppose that's because I spent so much time reading textbooks." He gave me a half-smile, glancing worriedly at the opening of the van. "Lion's picky about his books. I guess—"

But he never got to finish, because at that second, a thunderous explosion shook the entire world. At least, that's what it felt like.

We had no idea where it had come from, but it was placed and detonated with enough force to send the multi-ton transport van groaning onto its side.

Bear and I were both thrown from out places on the floor, crashing into the side as the van capsized. The world spun violently for several seconds even after I'd stopped moving, my body throbbing from where it had slammed into the unforgiving steel. My ears rang from the shockwave, sound muted and fuzzy when it finally reached me.

Blinking heavily, rolling onto my side with monumental effort, I saw Bear lying a few feet away from me, still and silent. The saline bag lay forgotten a few feet from his hand. My vision swam, my head throbbing. Gingerly I touched my temple, only for my fingers to come away bloody.

I heard shouting and gunshots outside the van, but a quick glance revealed nothing but smoke and overturned vehicles. The storefront was demolished, from what little I saw. Bear and I were too exposed; we needed to get out of here, and I couldn't carry us both.

"Bear," I said, but I dissolved into a coughing fit, my heart beating sporadically and my lungs choking on the smoke and ash in the air. "_Bear_, wake up."

But he just lay there. For a second my heart skipped a beat, and I thought he was dead—he was very, very still. With another Herculean burst of strength and grit, I dragged myself to his side, shaking his chest. "Come on, man…"

There. A deep inhale, an exhale of breath. I put two clumsy, shaking fingers against his throat, and collapsed in relief when I felt a steady, strong heartbeat. Just unconscious, then.

Drawing in another ragged breath, feeling my strength ebb with each second, I felt around his scalp for a wound, and—yep, there it was, right at the back. It was a nasty headwound, bleeding freely, but his pulse was strong, and his breathing normal, if not a bit shallow. He'd probably have a hell of a headache and a moderate concussion, but he'd be alright, unless any complications popped up.

"Bear," I said again, shaking his chest weakly. Shit, this wasn't getting us anywhere…

Another round of chaos ensued outside, the ringing in my ears diminished to where I could try to make out words. Something about the package, enemies, and being surrounded. Well, that sounded bloody perfect.

I guessed our best bet, since I was bloody useless at the moment, was to wait here in the relative safety of the bullet-proof van until our allies could get rid of the enemy or come get us. I hated that those were the only two options, as I generally _hated_ putting my life in someone else's hands, but I was barely conscious as it was.

I kept a hand on Bear's throat, monitoring his pulse in an attempt to feel useful. He was fine, and I hoped he'd stay that way.

Voices got closer to the opening of the truck, and I risked a glance, unable to tell whose voice it was. I couldn't tell who was speaking.

Someone had removed the gun from my waistband before they'd laid me in the truck, so I scanned the floor (well, what used to be the wall, and was now the floor) for it, only to see it lying at the absolute opposite end of the truck, having slid away from us when the truck had flipped.

It might as well have been a mile away.

I had a knife strapped to my ankle under my cargo pants, but I knew I wouldn't be able to hold out in a hand-to-hand fight. God, this sucked. Why had I thought the SAS was a good idea, again?

Shocked out of my musings by a clang in the open end of the truck, I whipped around fast enough to knock me flat, my head spinning. Struggling to get my arms under me, I looked up, hoping to see Lion or Tiger or one of the Frenchmen ready to drag us to relative safety, or at least give us some backup if we _were _ambushed.

My breath caught in my throat as I followed the orange pants up to the face.

Hollis' smug smile was swimming in and out of focus, but I would recognize it anywhere.

"Hey, soldier boy," he said, the chains gone from his wrists and ankles. "Looks like you're in a rough spot."

I swallowed, and out of sheer willpower, forced my swaying body up onto my knees, putting myself between him and Bear.

Before I could come up with a worthy retort, another man I didn't recognize appeared behind him, followed by a third, both toting machine guns. The were spraying bullets towards the edge of the building, and I could only assume that was were Lion and Tiger and the others had taken cover.

"Fred, we're taking some heavy fire," a man with a thick Irish accent said, glancing back. He caught my eye and looked quickly at Bear. "Hostages?"

"Yep," Hollis said, and my heartbeat quickened. I swayed where I was, wondering how quickly I could get to my gun—it was twenty feet away, and I knew I'd never make it in time, but I had to do _something_. "One of them is my special friend, and I'd hate to leave without a proper goodbye."

Bear was still dead to the world behind me, and I didn't want to let him fall into their hands when I was the only thing standing in the way. "Take me," I said shakily, barely able to get the words out. "But leave him."

"What a good martyr," Hollis said, peeking back out around the edge of the van, searching for something. "How long til the transport?"

"Two minutes," the other man said, Irish like the first. "Hollis, you really know how to land yourself in some shit situations, brother. This is a cluster."

Something about this was…off. This whole time, we'd been protecting Hollis from people out to kill him, so why…did this seem like a rescue?

In a sudden epiphany, it all clicked in my addled mind, and my eyes widened in realization. The way he talked so incessantly…the way they knew exactly where we were, all the time…

I was reminded of my exploding earring from Point Blanc, and it all fell into place.

"Your jewelry," I mumbled, sagging under my own weight. My arm burned fiercely, and my body ached like I'd just fallen from a third story window. "They're…"

This rescue had been planned since before Hollis was even captured.

"Oh, I knew you were a quick one," Hollis said quickly, jogging inside towards me. I tried to back up, but I could barely remain upright. He gripped my upper arm—the injured one—and I screamed in pain, latching onto him with my other hand in an attempt to fend him off.

"Don't make a fuss, and I won't do anything…unsavory, okay?" Hollis said with a smile. "And you're right, about the jewelry. I've been playing you for fools all along. Sorry, I know relationships are built on trust, but I don't think you would've cooperated with my friends."

The bar in his lip…the jewels in his ears…I'd be willing to bet my life the bar was a microphone of some kind, picking up the vibrations of his lips as he spoke, transmitting the sound waves to someone else. That's why he kept…talking about the landscape, the names of the towns. I'd be willing to bet one of his studs was a tracker of some kind, as well.

I was on the verge of unconsciousness when Hollis hauled me to a standing position, and I sagged in his grip, the pain of his hand around the infected wound overwhelming. "Take the other one," he said to one of the Irishmen. "Two hostages are better than one."

"No," I said quickly, not really knowing why I was so hellbent on making sure Bear stayed here, but it gave me something to focus on so I didn't pass out. I stumbled along as Hollis dragged me to the opening, supporting most of my weight. "Leave him…"

"I admire your tenacity, kid, but from a tactical perspective, two hostages are much better," he said distractedly. "And I doubt your buddies will be willing to blow our car with two of their friends inside."

Without preamble, he sent a heavy fist into my stomach. Normally, the blow would've been easily blocked, or quickly shaken off, but the infection was wreaking havoc on my body. The needle had been torn from my arm during the chaos, and I was getting worse. As it was, my spasming lungs couldn't inflate.

I collapsed to my side, unable to hold myself upright. Terror gripped me as unconsciousness slithered in, and I was painfully aware of how vulnerable I was, once again, to my enemies.

Well, despite my best efforts, at least I wouldn't be alone.

The last thing I saw was one of the Irishmen heaving Bear's limp body over his shoulder. I heard the squeal of tires, the rush of voices, and I felt foreign hands hefting me up as I slipped into unconsciousness.

My last thought were the overwhelming feelings of pain, failure…and dread.

**A/N: I did a THING. You know, I'd apologize for the cliffhanger, but this is nothing compared to what I put my Whispers in the Dark readers through…**

**I hope you liked the chapter! I know Alex seems a little incapable in this chapter, but reminders—he's only 16, he's only human, and he's…well, a wreck. And I'd like to force my child to rely on the people around him a little bit more, so…we'll see if his new friends can live up to his expectations. **

**Anyways! Thank you to everyone who has followed and favortied, I appreciate you all! And to my reviewers, you're all wonderful: hunterjk123, Night Riders, Aism de Plume, Ichigo1217, Asilrettor, Guest, Guest, LoveRider, Buttermilkbells, Em0wolf, and Guest! **

**Guest (Beautifully written): Aw thank you so much! I'm so glad you're enjoying it!**

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**Thank you guys so much for reading, and hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a review and let me know what you think, they make me very very happy. Until next time! Wash your hands! **


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: As usual, suggestive comments, but nothing happens. Nothing will happen in this story that has anything to do with any sexual assault except for comments, to those of you who are worried it might be gearing up to something. I don't like writing that, so I don't. Thanks! **

Consciousness came back in waves.

It ebbed and flowed in time with the fire in my veins, my heart thudding rapidly in my chest. My breath wheezed in my lungs, shallow slivers of air barely satisfying my breathlessness. I was jostled with each step, and I soon put together that I was draped in someone's arms, held steadily.

The knowledge was distant, and I knew I should be more panicked. I should be fighting to get away, to wake up and figure out what was going on, but I felt so bloody awful that I couldn't make myself.

Had I gotten sick? Was Ian carrying me to bed or something? Why did that sound so wrong?

Muted voices were chattering around me, but they all seemed too far away to be from the person carrying me. My limbs hung bonelessly, swaying with each step. God, I'd never felt so sick…were we to my bed yet? And why was it so cold?

I was jolted further into awareness when whoever was holding me stumbled, coming dangerously close to dropping me before righting himself, muttering a quiet curse laced with pain and exhaustion. It was distinctly not Ian's voice.

Wait. I knew them. That was…that was Bear.

In an instant, everything came flooding back. _I'm…Matthew. Not Alex, Matthew Smith…Ian's dead, Jack's dead, Sabina's dead…I joined the SAS to hide, and I'm Jaguar…and right now…_

Shit.

_I'm a bloody hostage._

"It'd be easier if ye carried him over yer shoulder," a deep Irish voice commented, sounding exasperated. "Moving at de pace of a glacier, ye are."

"I can't," Bear said, and I could hear the exhaustion clearer now. He didn't sound much better than I felt. He readjusted his grip on me, his arms shaking. "His blood pressure is nearly bottoming out. The last thing he needs is to be upside down."

"Want me to take him for a while?" A new voice said, one that sent shivers up and down my spine, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. Whose—

Shit. Hollis.

"No," Bear said resolutely, his voice little more than a growl.

Hollis laughed. "Just offering to help. You SAS kids are birds of a feather, aren't you?"

"What?"

I heard a pause, letting myself gradually adjust to the world, trying to control the pain wracking my arm and shoulder. Hollis voice started again. "When we came in, you were out cold, and he dragged himself in front of you like a little guard dog. He told us to take him and not you. Adorable, really."

Bear didn't respond. His arms tightened imperceptibly.

Oh. I had done that, hadn't I? Fat lot of good it did now.

The last thing I remembered as I wracked my pounding head was being loaded into a car. I assumed we'd stopped somewhere and had to continue on foot, but I didn't know where we were going or why we were abandoning the faster method of transportation. It didn't feel like we were moving very quickly.

I felt Bear's arms quiver more heavily under my weight, his chest heaving in breaths, but he didn't let go, and he kept moving. I didn't know why he was doing that for me. I _did_, but…it didn't make sense. I remembered he probably had a nasty concussion…he was killing himself to make sure I didn't deteriorate or that Hollis or the others didn't touch me.

Bloody hell. I didn't deserve them as a unit. They were far too good for me.

I came to fully in that moment, intent on taking some of the pressure off of Bear, but I wasn't sure how well I could support myself.

I groaned, rolling my head on Bear's arm where it lolled and trying to lift it, opening my eyes. I felt him come to a stop as my vision cleared.

"Jaguar?" He asked, his voice rough in poorly disguised relief. I blinked up at him, squinting in the sunlight.

"Where…?" I breathed, trying to get a firmer handle on the situation.

"Oh, soldier boy's awake," Hollis' voice commented, and I heard him coming closer, branches snapping under his feet. Bear took a step back, turning slightly, moving me away from him.

I heard Hollis chuckle as I tried to keep my eyes open, taking in our surroundings. "I'm not going to do anything. Just checking on the well-being of my hostages."

As far as I could tell, we were somewhere in one of the Czech forests—I couldn't have been out long enough for us to flee the country, and there was no way they'd been able to pass through a border with two passengers unconscious and bleeding. They must have ditched the vehicle and were continuing through the forest to a extraction site or a safehouse of some kind to plan their next move.

Through the thick branches hovering above us, I could just make out shafts of sunlight coming from the left at an angle…the sun was maybe a couple hours from setting, it seemed. My brain couldn't do the calculations at the moment, but I filed the information away for later.

Hollis, it seemed, was walking in front of us, toting a machine gun slung over his shoulder, I supposed provided by his friends. He'd taken his jewelry out, I noticed…I supposed he no longer needed the gadgets. One of the Irishmen was with him. Turning my head slowly, my brain pounding from the head wound I'd almost forgotten about, I saw the other Irishmen and another man behind us, similar weapons in hand. I grimly recognized the unknown man—it was the man who'd been reading the newspaper behind the counter when we'd stopped for gas.

Damn, they'd had this entire thing planned.

"I can…walk," I breathed quietly, not liking how unsteady Bear looked, though I knew I probably looked a sight worse.

"You sure?" His voice was dubious.

Swallowing, I nodded, though I wasn't sure how much of my weight I'd be able to hold. I needed help soon, but first we had to get out of this mess.

Bear set my legs down, keeping a firm arm around my waist. Dried blood crusted his hair and neck as I got a better look at him, but he seemed to be cognizant and aware of everything going on, at least. And if he was able to carry me for God knows how long, he must be physically alright.

My knees collapsed as soon my feet hit the forest floor, but I forced myself to stand on principle, because Hollis and his band of pricks weren't getting anymore humiliation from me.

I felt something shift on my ankle, under my pants, and nearly laughed in relief. The stupid bastards had probably assumed the gun in the truck and the one they'd probably taken from Bear had been our only weapons, doing a quick search of our pockets in their haste and calling it a day.

Amateurs.

"How do you feel?" Bear asked as we struggled to keep moving, one of my arms slung over his shoulders. He stumbled under my weight, but righted himself quickly when one of the goons behind us shoved a pistol into his back.

"…not good," I breathed reluctantly, my left arm tucked against me in an effort to keep it stable. I tried to stay quiet so the others wouldn't hear, in case we weren't supposed to be talking. "Where…are we going?"

"Think they said to a cabin of some kind," he said quietly, wincing. He must have had a killer headache. I didn't envy him. "Spending the night to wait for a bigger transport. Dunno what they plan to do with us, though."

I nodded slowly, trying not to aggravate my head wound, and took a shaky breath. "Right."

"Why don't ye quit gossiping and focus on moving yer prissy little arses a bit faster," the Irishman in front of us growled with a backwards glance. "If we're not dere in de next hour, so help me, I'll shoot one of ye."

Well, that would suck, considering we were both already unsteady.

"Offer stands if you need an extra shoulder," Hollis threw back with a smirk, and I steadfastly avoided his gaze, sweat rolling into my eyes despite the cold.

Bear tried to take a bit more of my weight, but I shook my head, hissing in pain. "Don't. You're barely…moving as it is."

Bear took a steadying breath. "Hate to tell you, mate, but…you're on a downward slope. I'm a lot more worried about you than me."

I didn't comment.

We moved steadily, stopping once to rest when I well and truly felt like I was about to keel over, much to Hollis' amusement. Fifty minutes and some change later, we arrived at a disheveled looking cabin standing firm against the elements, the wood weathered and the iron porch rail considerably rusted.

"Get them inside," Irishman 1 ordered, the fake store attendant and Irishman 2 corralling us inside. "Hollis."

Hollis, after a wink in my direction, and he began talking in hushed voices, keeping an eye out as they did so, while we stumbled inside the little cabin.

There was a kitchenette to one side, the sparse counterspace covered in dust and leaves. A rusty tin coffee pot sat on the gas stove, which looked like it had been built with spare parts from a forgotten rubbish yard. The chair and couch in what was supposed to be the sitting room were covered with clear plastic, also shrouded in dust. A thin hallway led to what I assumed was a bedroom and bathroom, but we didn't get that far.

Irishman 2 kicked aside the rug with his foot, grabbing the metal ring protruding from the floor and heaving, revealing a short ladder and a dark, dank basement, covered in cobwebs. From what I could see, a naked bulb hung from the ceiling, earthen walls filled with weeds and crumbling remnants of brick.

Shit. This was going to make escape loads harder.

Getting down was tricky, but somehow, we managed. "Behave yerselves and we'll consider killing ye quickly," one of the Irishmen said with a smirk.

Bear helped me slump against one of the rough walls, dirt staining my hair as I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, panting. The heavy boom or the trap door and the rustling of the rug being replaced was thunderous, and I know Bear saw me flinch.

"Shit," he echoed my thoughts, running a hand through his blood-stained hair and standing, walking the small basement. It had obviously been brick-walled, once, but probably decades of disuse and elemental weathering had reduced it to little more than an earthen cellar. "_Shit_."

I agreed with him.

"We have…to get out," I panted, using most of my strength just to keep my head up.

"Obviously, mate. How?" Bear asked, hands on his hips as he surveyed the space, his lanky frame stooping as his head brushed the low ceiling. "Unless you want to go completely _Shawshank Redemption_ …"

I gave a breathless laugh, gripping my arm as another wave of fire speared through me. "That's exactly…the plan."

Bear raised a dubious eyebrow. "Please, James Bond. Give me the plan."

"My…right ankle…" I said, nodding to my foot. "Didn't…find my knife." I coughed shakily, my breathing shallow. "The bricks are…loose enough to…pry away, and the knife will help you…with the thicker patches of…of dirt."

I gasped, shutting my eyes against the exhaustion and panic I could feel welling up inside of me. I was deteriorating quickly. "You've gotta…work quickly."

Bear didn't question it, rolling up my dirt-stained cargo pants and unsheathing the knife, setting it aside. He put a hand on my forehead, glancing at my wound. The bandages were bloodied and yellow, dirt staining the outside.

"You're not doing well," he said quietly, eyes worried. "Lie flat, come on."

With a wince and a lot of Bear's help, I managed to get myself lying flat, which made breathing easier. He rolled up his windbreaker and put it under my head, leaving him in just his long-sleeved shirt. The weather was too cold for that.

To make matters worse, he knelt beside my injured arm and used the knife to cut off his sleeves, slitting one side, and began to peel away the soiled bandages.

I couldn't stop the grunt of pain that left me, my back arching off the ground as the inflamed, open wound was pulled. "Sorry," he said quietly, eyes focused. "I don't have anything to disinfect it, but we need to get something relatively clean on it. With the dust and dirt down here, your infection is going to get a lot worse if we don't."

I nodded breathlessly, my muscles coiled tight as he continued. "Bloody…_hell_…"

He laughed, but it was humorless. "Yeah, yell at me all you want, mate."

He finished quickly, tying off the makeshift bandage as tightly as he could without sending me back into unconsciousness. "That should hold for a while."

I rolled my head across the makeshift pillow, breathing heavily. "Get started…now, then. Start on…the place where…the dirt crumbles fastest, and…go quickly." I closed my eyes, thinking as quickly as my addled mind could manage. "Find a spot on…the back wall where they…can't see if they don't come down. How long…did you carry me?"

I wasn't under any illusion that we'd have infinite time alone down here, but working with what I had, this was the best I could come up with. The earth was loose this time of year, with late summer rains loosening the dirt. Two distinct voices were above us, which meant that two were probably outside, patrolling. We'd take their own strategy, the one they used on us at our campsite, and Bear would sneak out when they came in to change guards. We'd be listening, and the second there was a different voice, he'd go.

I hadn't yet told him he'd be going alone. I had a feeling he wouldn't take that too well.

Bear was feeling around the walls, knife in hand. Heavy footsteps echoing above the wooden floor stopped him cold, muffled voices filtering through the floorboards, but we didn't hear the rustle of the rug. He continued, saying quietly, "Maybe two hours. I woke up in the back of the car, and we stopped…I dunno, half an hour later. Ditched the car and continued on foot. I'm not sure how long we'd been in there."

I nodded, running calculations as quickly as I could. "It was…11:30 ish, when we stopped…you carried me two hours…we continued for an hour…when I woke, the sun was…maybe…I dunno, it might've been around four o'clock…"

I distantly remembered that it was late October, and Prague had undergone its time change. "No…three…Ian said late October meant…everybody in Europe set the clocks back…"

I took a shaky breath, coughing weakly and ignoring Bear's worried look before continuing, listening to the steady scraping of the knife in the wall. "So it's probably…four now…three miles an hour, maybe…we walked nine miles…and drove for an hour and a half…"

I swallowed. God, what I would give for some water. "When they ditched…the car…what did you see…?"

"We ditched it in a rubbish yard, I think," Bear said, voice strained as he worked steadily at the wall. "There was an office, but no one seemed to be in it. I'm not sure if there was an arrangement or if they just took advantage of an empty scrap yard."

I nodded, swallowing again. "Let's hope…the latter. Can you get back to the…the yard?"

Bear continued, his pace quickening as the plan began to take hold. "I think so. This is…actually easier than it looks."

I laughed breathlessly. "It's actually…a lot easier to…tunnel through loose dirt than people think. Make it…small so you…don't compromise the foundation, and…maybe a little over four meters long," I breathed. That should get him past the house of the wall with some buffer room. "How far…in are you…?"

"Maybe a third of a meter," he said, grunting as he wrestled with what I assumed was a particularly stubborn root. "Dirt keeps falling from the ceiling and getting in my _bloody _way…"

A third of a meter…that was actually good progress for such a short time. The dirt must've been looser than I thought. I figured it would take him…eight hours, maybe, and then we'd wait for the changing of the guard. Luckily, he'd have the night to hide him.

"You're going to get dirty," I supplied, shifting with a hiss of pain. "When the time comes…you'll need to…crawl like hell, and dig up. Digging up will be a lot easier than…than this. Hold your breath, don't breathe…in the dust or dirt…if you can, and when you reach…the forest floor, run like hell."

Bear stopped, then, and turned, incredulity painting his usually buoyant features. "You're absolutely not asking me to leave you here."

"Keep going," I insisted. "We don't have time. And…yes, I am. You can't…carry me and run, and I'm…bloody useless right now."

Bear, begrudgingly, kept digging, but that didn't stop the argument like I hoped it would. "I'm not leaving you here, Jaguar. You heard Lion. No man left behind."

Ah, shit. I didn't have the energy to argue this right now. "It's not up for…debate."

"I outrank you," Bear reminded me pointedly. "I don't know if you've noticed, but you're _dying_, Jaguar. If I leave you here by yourself, who knows what they'll do to you when they find me missing? And I am absolutely bloody not leaving you with Hollis, that creep."

All excellent points. That didn't invalidate my argument, though. "How quickly…could you travel ten miles…carrying me? Not stopping?"

He was silent for a second, only the sounds of muted voices laughing above us and loose dirt falling as he dug. "I don't know, Jaguar. Maybe…maybe four hours or so."

I resisted the urge to scoff, breathing heavily. That was generous. I'd give it no less than five. "And alone?"

"I'm _not_ leaving you here." He didn't want to prove my point, then.

"I know…you don't want to. I don't want…to be left behind," I admitted quietly, staring resolutely at the ceiling. It swayed and dipped, my vision fading in and out. "But…the others…can't track us. Not with…with how careful these guys are. And I…Bear, you said it. I'm dying. I can't…stand, let alone run, and you'll _need_…to run."

He didn't say anything, his actions growing more aggressive. I heard him curse under his breath. "I need…help, and…I'm not going to get it…here. If you can…get to the others before the…transport arrives, we have…a shot." I breathed shakily. "They're _going_ to kill us. We stay…we both die. You take me…we both die. You go…we both…have a chance."

"And what if, when they find out I'm gone, they cut their losses and kill you, huh?" He asked angrily, swiping a dirty hand through his hair. "What then?"

I swallowed. "They took hostages…for a reason. They'll probably need me…to bargain their way out…of the country or through airspace," I reasoned quietly. "And Hollis…much as I hate it…I don't think he's…finished taunting me. And his ego is huge, so…I doubt he'll let them…kill me." I hoped, anyways.

He didn't respond. Despite the panic in my heart, the pain wracking my body, I took it as a win.

…

We had a scare three hours later when Hollis opened the trap door to taunt us, but luckily, he didn't come down. Bear adjusted himself to stand in front of the hole he'd made so much progress on, his hands shaking.

I heard the rug rustle, rousing me from the doze I'd slipped into, and my heart skipped a beat of panic as I heard Bear scuttling quickly back to the room, hastily shaking the dirt from his sandy hair. The lock clinked as he haphazardly moved bricks quickly to the entrance, coving a portion of the small hole before he stood quickly, moving a few paces away as the door opened.

Hollis crouched at the entrance, and I opened my eyes slowly, blinking him into focus. "How you doing, soldier boy?"

I didn't respond, a weak cough rattling my lungs. He held a water bottle in his hand, and I couldn't help but hope it was for us. I was so dehydrated I was sure that would kill me before the infection.

"He's not well," Bear said after a second of hesitation, his voice quiet, but confident. I glanced at him. He was standing at his full height (well, as much as he could when his taller-than-average frame brushed the ceiling) hands fisted at his sides. His face betrayed none of the fear he must have felt, and I suddenly knew exactly how he'd passed Selection—the guy may have been the Energizer Bunny on some occasions, but he was a damn good soldier. "He needs water and clean bandages."

Hollis raised an eyebrow. "Making demands now? I guess I picked some high-maintenance hostages." He shrugged, his predatory grin sending shivers down my spine as he glanced my way. "What do you think, kiddo? What are you willing to trade?"

"He's barely _conscious_," Bear cut in, anger coloring his words.

Hollis smirked, and I closed my heavy eyes, electing to listen to the interaction rather than participate. "Fine, then. I'll come back later, when my friends are asleep, and we can…retry this conversation." I opened my eyes in time to see him waggle the water bottle, open it, and take a long drag before closing the heavy door without another word.

Bear let out a string of expletives under his breath, dragging a dirt-covered hand down his face. His dark skin let the dirt blend in more, luckily, so Hollis wouldn't have known that he'd been digging.

Bear came to sit beside me, hand settling on my shoulder. "Stay awake, Jaguar."

"Mm," I managed, eyes closed. "How long…?"

I couldn't finish, but he got it. How long did I have before the sepsis killed me?

Bear might have shrugged. I wasn't looking. "It…depends, mate. Could be a couple days…could be a couple hours."

I nodded quietly. "Listen…if I…" I took a ragged breath, coughing weakly again. "If I…don't…"

"Cutting you off right there," Bear said, hand squeezing my shoulder more insistently. "You're going to be just fine."

I wheezed a thin laugh. "I've been…near death…before, Bear. Lots…lots of times." Well, if I was dying, I might as well be a little more open. I figured Bear deserved that much. "I know…how it feels when it's…creeping up, and I've…been living on…borrowed time for a while."

There was silence for a moment, only my thin wheezing and the jeering voices from above drifting through the dank space. The air was thick, and it didn't make breathing easier.

"Has anyone told you about Elliot?" Bear asked quietly.

I blinked, turning slowly to look at him. His hand was still on my shoulder, but his eyes were far away, his other fist clenched in his lap. His nails and fingertips were bloody, his palms raw. A wave of guilt crashed over me. Here I was giving my last words, just in case, and he was tearing his hands apart to try to get us out.

"No," I breathed, wondering who it was. I was banking on their former unit-mate who'd died.

Bear nodded, blinking quickly. "His code name was Raven, and we sometimes called him Ell, for short. He hated them both. Said they made him sound like a girl." A small smile curled his lips, but his eyes were far from happy. "It was…I dunno, around a year ago. We were in Iran, helping the British and American militaries with a stealth op. The mission was kind of like this one—a cluster from the start. Murphy's Law.

"Anyways, we were pinned down by enemy fire out in the open, us and two other teams. Our formation was shot to hell, along with a couple of the other soldiers. We were practically surrounded." He looked away, his dark eyes hard, glinting like steel in the dim light. "I got clipped in the shoulder. Nothing bad, only took two months for a full recovery, but…I was bleeding pretty badly, and it knocked me out for a minute. I was shot out in the open trying to get to another injured guy behind one of the other jeeps, so I was completely exposed, bullets kicking up sand all around me…it's a miracle I wasn't hit again.

"Elliot raced out to grab me and haul me back under heavy enemy fire—didn't even wait for cover. He took three bullets and he still kept dragging me. I could hear him, cussing up a storm, even as he was dragging me." He dragged a hand down his ashen face, leaning his head back against the wall. "When we got back behind our cover, Tiger started helping me, and Lion started helping Ell, but…he bled out twenty minutes later. One bullet clipped his brachial artery, another clipped his femoral artery, another damn near blew out his knee, and the bastard still managed to drag me to safety."

He shook his head, his hand tightening on my shoulder, shocking me out of his memory and back to the present. "Don't make me do that again. Don't…I can't do that again, Jaguar. I know we haven't known each other long, but you're a friend, whether you planned it or not. So you're damn well going to stay alive until the others and I get back, guns blazing, and get you to a hospital, or I'm going to kill you myself, and that's a promise."

He grinned, a shadow of his buoyant personality rising to the surface, but his eyes were still serious. It was a complete turnaround from the chipper man I'd grown to know. "Guess I should get back to it. I've said my piece, so…shut up."

I breathed a quiet laugh, trying to keep my wheezing to a minimum. Composing myself, dragging in enough air to get the words out, I tried to say my piece. "I guess…after your heartfelt declaration…I'll have to do my best."

"Damn right."

I smiled, feeling safe to close my eyes and slip back under, if only for a bit.

…

I woke what I assumed was a few hours later to someone shaking my shoulder, his dark eyes worried. "Hm?"

"Thank God," he said, his head dropping low as his shoulders slumped in relief. "Christ, I thought you were a goner. I was shaking you for two and a half minutes."

I blinked, the words barely making sense. "Uh…"

"Just…just rest," he said, patting my chest with a heavy hand. He smiled, I supposed in an attempt to make sure I wasn't worried. What did I have to be worried about? "I managed to dig all the way…you've been sleeping for a long time. They came once to check up on us, but nobody came down. Figure that'd be a stupid move on their part, anyhow."

I nodded absently, blinking. "What're you…digging?"

His eyes shot to me, concern creasing his brow. He looked way too young to have that many wrinkles. "The tunnel. To escape…Jaguar, do you know where you are?"

I blinked again, the ceiling and his face swimming in and out of focus. "Oh. I…we're…trapped? In…In India. We were trying to…stop McCain from…poisoning everyone. I…wait, you're not Rahim…"

"I'm Bear," he said quickly, putting a hand on my forehead. Bear sounded familiar. "You're not in…in India, Jaguar, you're in the Czech Republic, with me. Remember? We were escorting a prisoner?"

I blinked. "Why would…MI6 have me…escort a prisoner?"

It was Bear's turn to blink in surprise, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline. "No, you're…with the SAS, mate. Your codename is Jaguar."

Taking a shaky breath, the fog cleared in an instant, and my memories became fuzzy. "I…oh. Bear."

"Yeah. It's me."

"I…what was I…?"

"Don't worry about it," he said with a tight smile. "Listen carefully. Do you remember what we were doing?"

Breathing heavily, I nodded. "I…you're…digging. Waiting for…the guard change…"

He nodded, his eyes hard as steel once again. "I…do you remember what you said I had to do?"

I nodded, remembering now. Panic seized my heart in a vise, and I almost begged him to stay. To not leave me alone in the cold, dark dungeon to die. Because I was sure we both knew that there was a very slim chance he would get back in time. Either the infection would kill me, or they'd shoot me.

"Go," I whispered, not having the strength for little else. My arm burned with a fierceness I hoped I'd never feel again, sweat rolling into my eyes even as dehydration wracked my frame with cramps. "Take…the knife…run as…as fast as you…bloody can. Just…"

Bear took my shoulders, gearing up to say something, but he looked quickly up as voices filtered through the wooden floor.

Three different voices…then…then four. Heavy laughter. They were changing guards, and their guard was down.

It was now or never.

"Go," I said, pushing weakly at his chest, blinking my heavy eyes. "Go. _Run_."

For a split second, Bear looked utterly torn. We both knew I was damn near out of time. I could tell he wanted with everything in him to stay. With everything in me, I wanted him to stay.

"You listen to me," he said, a hard edge to his voice. His hands gripped my shoulders almost painfully, which helped me focus on him. "I am coming back for you. You understand me? I'm damn well going to get you out of here, so you'd better be alive."

I nodded, giving him a weak smile. It was all I could do. I couldn't tell him how badly I wanted him to stay. I couldn't tell him how much I didn't want to die alone, surrounded by my enemies. I didn't tell him.

"I'll be here," I lied, the words bitter in my mouth. "Go."

With one last squeeze, wet eyes, and an angry grunt that was surely far too loud, he tore himself away from me, running to the hole. He tossed the bricks aside, which he'd replaced for cover, and crawled.

A few seconds later, ears peeled desperately for any sound, I heard the dirt falling as he clawed his way up out of the earth. I heard his muted grunts and gasps as he levered himself up, his tall frame helping him reach the top quickly.

I closed my eyes, exhaling a rattling breath, still listening intently. I heard the dirt fall, his shoes skid against the sides of the vertical tunnel…and then nothing.

And then, a few seconds later, chaos and shouting.

I opened my eyes, praying to any God listening that they didn't catch him. I heard things like "After him," and "Shoot the bastard!" Spurts of machine gun fire echoed through the floor, rattling the dirt walls. They were shooting for a long time before curses finally filtered through the floor, words of anger and frustration. Words of failure.

And despite everything, I managed a weak laugh, raising my good arm to wipe the sweat from my brow.

He'd done it. He'd escaped.

No matter what happened now, he'd bloody escaped. No matter what they did to me now, I wouldn't have to add his name to the list of people I'd killed.

I had a few seconds to rest, to soak in the feeling of relief that Bear was away and help was coming eventually, before heavy boots stomped into the upstairs so hard dust and dirt fell from the ceiling.

The rug was thrown away and the trap door was wrenched open. Dimly feeling Bear's jacket still under my head, I rolled over in an attempt to prop myself up against the wall and salvage some of my dignity, but they didn't even bother using the ladder. Irishman 2 dropped down into the cellar with murder in his eyes.

He didn't even waste a word before he sent a vicious kick to my midsection. I cried out in pain and surprise, the movement having jostled my arm, my surely failing organs squeezing at the treatment. My heart thudded against my chest far too quickly.

"You little _shit_," he spat, surveying the room before finding the hole in the wall. "Son of a _bitch_."

I struggled to breathe, my lungs spasming as my eyelids fell heavy. I distantly saw Hollis drop down behind his friend, the other two stomping around upstairs, yelling in angry voices. They sounded like they were fighting.

Through blurred vision, I caught a glimpse of Hollis' face, and my gut dropped.

And suddenly, I realized I'd probably miscalculated, because I'd forgotten exactly who Hollis was. Thus far, his comments had been dehumanizing and cruel and scathing, but I'd been able to handle them. In my mind, that meant I was able to handle him.

Now, looking at the cold beady eyes that focused on my prone frame, understanding just how defenseless I was against this monster, who was a murderer, rapist, terrorist, and more…

…maybe I should've gone with Bear after all.

The thought didn't take long for me to get rid of, considering if I'd done that, we'd both be dead. I had a feeling, though, that I may have preferred that to the alternative.

"I'll give you this, soldier boy," Hollis said, his voice cold and flat, his tone completely unlike the teasing lilt he'd maintained until now. "You got me. I wasn't expecting a _Shawshank_ escape. But let me promise you this."

He crouched beside my head, his movements slow and deliberate, everything done to instill fear and control. I tried to move away, sluggishly adjusting myself, but he fisted a hand in the hair at the base of my neck, wrenching my head up to face him.

I could only stare as the murder in his eyes grew darker.

"Your friend may have escaped, but you're going to be the one to pay for it. And trust me. You _will_ pay for it."

My shallow breath hitched in my chest, and despite how well I'd done until now to avoid his eyes, I couldn't tear myself away from his gaze.

With another few seconds of the stare, my body absolutely immobile in fear, he released me. I slumped against the ground, my hand brushing Bear's jacket.

"Don't shoot him," Hollis ordered, his words cold. "He's a waste of bullets at this point. We're going to go upstairs and figure out how to proceed." He put a foot on the ladder, turning back to me. "And then you're going to tell us every damn thing you know about your friends, and when they're going to get here. You're going to squeal every last secret, boy. I'll make damn sure of it."

And he and Irishman 2 disappeared up the ladder, the heavy thud of the door even more final than before.

The difference was that now, I was alone in the damp, dark hole.

Back to normal, I supposed.

My last thought before drifting off was that I hoped Bear ran bloody fast.

**A/N: Hehe. I'm evil. I know it was kind of another cliffhanger, but in exchange, it was also very long XD.**

**I hope you liked the chapter! I'm glad we got to look at Bear a bit more as a character, because I really love him. And we found out about the mysterious former unit member. Unfortunately, now Alex is alone, so…stay tuned to see what happens.**

**Getting on my soap box again: Alex is 16 and kind of dying atm, so no, he's not going to be the perfect spy and be able to save everyone and himself all the time. Thank you.**

**Final announcement: for those of you who came here for K-Unit, I PROMISE they're coming. They are a very large part of this story—this is a slow burn story. I'm estimating like 50 chapters, at least, so…just be patient, please, and enjoy the adorable boys of L-Unit. **

**Now, I LOVE each and every ONE OF YOU for all of your support! Thank you so much to everyone who has followed and favorited, and ESPECIALLY to my incredible amazing reviewers: hunterjk123, jinxlovespride, Asilrettor, Guest, LoveRider, Master of Procrastinating (relatable tbh), Konstans, RiderKitty, Em0wolf, Guest, OwlQueen08, Guest, Charlotte, and Gabrielle Nightingale! **

**Guest (Gracias por escriber un capitulo): Muchas gracias!**

**LoveRider: Thanks! Yeah I figured superspies weren't the only ones with cool gadgets XD**

**Konstans: Omg THANK YOU so much! What a great compliment!**

**Em0wolf: Aw thank you so much! And thank you, I'm glad you agree! I'm all for a realistic storyline. **

**Guest (I must say this story is kinda amazing): Omg thank you so much! And hahaha I know the nicknames are adorable. **

**Guest (Ahhh! This story is so good): Thank you so much!**

**Charlotte (Thankfully Bear is with Alex): …oops. Thanks!**

**Next chapter, a twist I doubt anyone is going to see coming…;) Haven't decided if I'll do the rescue or not next chapter. Stay tuned! **


	12. Chapter 11

**WARNING: more suggestive comments, emotional abuse, and a naughty word. All you eleven and twelve year olds who lied about your age to get on this site, don't repeat these words. **

I slipped in and out of consciousness for the next little while; I couldn't tell exactly how long it had been. It felt simultaneously like days and less than an hour.

I'd never known sepsis was so horrible. The pain was all-consuming, starting in my arm and tracing lines of fire through my veins, stretching to every part of me. I couldn't wiggle my toes without something hurting. Sleep was a respite from the pain, but it was also a chance to escape from the fear. No matter how addled my mind was, or how off I felt, I remembered Hollis' threat, and I was well and truly terrified.

The problem was I'd never been this incapacitated. I'd been drugged past the point of mobility several times, sure, but drugs eventually wore off, and I'd found a means of escape. Despite the unique terror of every situation, there was always a way for me to get myself out, eventually.

Sepsis didn't fade. It got worse, and made me feel more horrible and so much closer to death with every second that ticked by. I had enough strength left to open my eyes and barely shift my body, and that was it. Anything else required energy I didn't have and caused crippling pain I couldn't handle at the moment.

I was completely dependent on Bear and the others, and that was terrifying to me after relying on no one but myself for so long.

Despite Bear's promise, the way he'd worked so quickly, tearing up his hands and fingers to get out so he could bring them back, a traitorous voice in my mind whispered that he wasn't coming back. Or, perhaps that they would let me die and play the long game with Hollis and the others, trapping them inside until they surrendered. Or they'd just burn the whole damn place to the ground and leave me to burn with them.

I closed my eyes, wheezing shakily. They wouldn't. They wouldn't leave me here. The SAS was different from MI6—that was why I'd trusted them at all in the first place. The SAS valued their teammates.

_My men come first, not the mission, Jaguar_. Lion's words rang in my ears. _I don't know how it was where you came from, but that's how it is in the SAS._

They'd come back for me. I just had to hold onto that. They were coming back.

Unfortunately, I'd probably be dead long before they got here. Hollis didn't seem too keen on giving me the five-star treatment, and the sepsis didn't seem to be going away any time soon.

I wouldn't say I was at peace with dying, because I wasn't. I definitely didn't want to die at the hands of a monster like him, or at the mercy of this infection invading every part of me. I didn't want to die alone, or afraid, in this dark, cold basement with nothing but a jacket and an impossible promise for comfort.

But I knew, just like I'd told Bear, that I'd been living on borrowed time ever since I stepped off the sidewalk.

No, maybe that wasn't right. Maybe since Nadia Vole died in my place when the Portuguese Man O'War landed on top of her.

I took a shaky breath, trying to stifle a cough. My lungs were barely inflating anymore. I wondered how much damage was being done to me on the inside. Even if I survived, would I even be able to continue in the SAS? If they tried to discharge me, how would I keep it a secret that I had nowhere to go, and no one to care for me if God forbid I was paralyzed, or had to have something amputated, or worse?

I tried to push the thoughts from my mind—worrying about what would happen if I survived wouldn't help me actually survive.

The rustle of the rug and the clang of the trapdoor sent me spiraling into awareness and seized me with terror. What would he do to me?

I didn't look at Hollis as he descended the ladder, landing with a small grunt. Instead, I kept my eyes closed, trying to ignore him. To ignore the situation. To mentally distance myself, to convince myself that this was a nightmare, and I was safe at home with Jack and Ian, however impossible.

"Did I catch you taking a nap?" Hollis asked, his tone thin and flat.

I didn't respond, turning my head towards him slightly. If he was going to torment me, I was at least going to look him in the eye while he did it. I would have preferred to stand, but that wasn't an option at the moment. I couldn't respond, either. I would have preferred to make a witty comeback.

"Awake, then," he conceded, approaching me. "You know, soldier boy, you've caused me a shit ton of trouble."

I blinked heavily, wondering how he'd kill me, when he did. Would he beat me to death? Would he poison me, or just shoot me? Or would he leave me here for the infection or the elements to kill me?

What would he do before that?

With a noise of discomfort, he crouched beside me, grabbing my jaw and turning my face towards him. I flinched away from him, but even that sent waves of pain through me. Blinking heavily, his face swam in and out of focus. Clumsily, I reached up with my right hand to tug at his wrist in a frail effort of resistance, but he just grabbed my wrist and held it in the air, smirking. "You couldn't kill a fly right now."

"Maybe…n-not me, but…" I took a steadying breath, looking him in the eye with as much strength as I could. "They…will."

He laughed, shoving me away. I grunted in pain, but I refused to look away from him. If this was all I could do, I was going to damn well do it.

"I didn't take you for the loyal type," he admitted, sitting down beside my head, leaning over me. "You seem like more of a lone wolf. Aside from your heroic display in the truck, of course." He shifted, propping a hand on his chin. "Let's recap. You've been without food and water for almost a day. From what your friend said, sepsis is going to kill you soon—within a day, I'd bet. Your friend ran off three hours ago. If he's traveling as fast as I think he is, he's already alerted your friends.

"Unfortunately for _you_," he amended, looking back towards the open trap door, "I doubt they'll be here for…I dunno, let's say four or five hours. Putting together a rescue mission takes some time, and they'll have to come on foot—the trees are too thick for vehicles to get out here. And my exfil is scheduled to be here in…oh, an hour and a half, or so. So that leaves the question…what to do with you."

He smiled, one of his cold, cruel smiles, and I fought the urge to look away. Before I could think of a witty response, he continued, "I was going to interrogate you, and kill you. But after calming down some…it would just be a waste. You don't look like you could say two words to save your life."

"Yeah?" I breathed. "Screw…you." Three words. I'd always been an overachiever.

In a fluid motion, he uncrossed his legs and his boot hit my face, sending my head snapping to the side. I coughed weakly, blood trailing from my nose and into my mouth. I didn't even have the energy to spit it out.

"You're not easily broken. I can see that. Which is why…I found something interesting, and I think it'll do that trick."

He grabbed my chin and turned my head back to face him, my face throbbing at the motion, but I held myself at a wince. I wouldn't let him see any more signs of pain from me.

Adjusting himself, he leaned back on his hands, crossing his feet in front of him. "I'll be the first to admit I'm an…egocentric man. How can I not be? I like to have my way. And when I set my sights on someone…I like to feel powerful by making people like you feel like nothing." He shrugged, smirking. "What can I say? Every man has his preferences. I like to feel powerful, and to break strong young men like you who act like they can take on the world.

"Unfortunately, you've been giving me some trouble, and I don't like to leave endeavors unfinished. I don't have much time left with you. Normally I would employ…_other_ methods, some a bit more physical." He winked at me, and though I hated myself with every fiber of my being, I looked down, feeling panic race through me. "But I have a feeling that wouldn't work on you, especially this late in the game. No, I think…I think this'll take away whatever hope you have left."

He shifted, and I tensed in apprehension, my breathing shallow as I watched him warily. He took out a square piece of paper from his pocket, turning it over in his fingers before unfolding it, and I realized it was a picture.

My breath caught.

"Who's this gorgeous young woman?" He asked, dangling the picture in front of me. The picture of Sabina that I always kept in my pocket. Always. No matter where I went or what I was doing.

He glossy dark hair was windswept, going every which way as her face was alight in laughter, her bright blue eyes dancing in mirth as she gazed at the camera. I'd taken the picture. We'd been at the beach—she'd been excited to show me the California beaches, no matter how crowded they were. A sunhat was perched precariously on her head, the brim blowing back with her hair and she held it secure with one hand. Her sundress was a dark green, her bare shoulders sun-kissed and smooth. She was beautiful, and alive.

"Give it…back," I muttered, having half a mind to reach for it, but I knew he'd just use my weakness to taunt me.

"Not until you tell me who she is," he countered, folding the picture back up and slipping it into his pocket, patting it. "You've got nothing to lose. I just want to know who she is to you."

I couldn't answer, because honest to God, I didn't even know. Once upon a time, she was a friend. An amazing friend. And then she was someone I had to keep safe, despite everything against us. And then…then she was more. She was…could've been a girlfriend. I'd loved her. I'd loved her so much. And then, she was a sister…but above all, she'd been _there_. A constant support even after I'd had to let go of Tom. A rock standing through all the shit I suffered through, her bright smile there to drag me out of whatever hell I was in.

And then, with a single bullet, that rock had been swept away like nothing.

I closed my eyes, unable to look at his smug face. I didn't know why he was so insistent on knowing, but…it wasn't like he could hurt her. He couldn't use her against me, or threaten her. She was already dead. Already dead because of me.

"Sister," I breathed, settling for the safer option. It wasn't like the information would help him, so I didn't see a reason to worsen myself by agitating him.

"Your sister," he repeated, looking intently at my face, thinking. "You don't look much alike. You're not lying to me, are you?"

"Adopted," I managed, tearing my eyes away from his face to gaze at the dirt wall, at what used to be the hole Bear had dug so quickly. I'd heard them fill it from the outside somewhere on the edge of consciousness, but I couldn't crawl out of it if I'd tried. I didn't have the strength to _breathe_.

"Adopted sister," he amended, nodding, looking at the wall. He smiled, shaking his head. "She's beautiful. I would have _loved_ to have some time with her. Unfortunately, though, that's not possible anymore, is it?"

I looked at him quickly, then, surprised. How did he know?

He smirked at the surprise on my face, heaving an exaggerated sigh. "You think a man like me gets caught, kiddo? I'm far too good for that. I was given the oddest job, you know. The last one I did before jailtime. There was a contract out on this subject, but the circumstances were odd. Usually, when I take a contract, it's out of revenge, or a political move, or a terrorist organization power play. But this wasn't. They simply said the subject had to die because they couldn't get to the person they _really_ wanted. And there was the oddest condition…I'd have to turn myself in once I was done, so I could deliver a message."

I wondered, through his monologue, why he was telling me this. Why he thought this could possibly break me, telling me of one kill of what was surely dozens for him. And then he said that, and…and it clicked. In one horrible, shattering second.

My eyes widened, and I opened my mouth to speak, but there were no words. There was nothing I could say.

"So I went to sunny California," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, his smile cold and his eyes narrowed, "and I shot your sister between the eyes."

Even as he confirmed it, I couldn't…I couldn't process it. With my mind as addled and dizzied as it was, I couldn't accept the fact that…that I was staring at Sabina's assassin.

Her murderer.

"Of course, they promised to get me out as soon as the opportunity presented itself using third-party contractors, but the pay was very nice to accommodate for all my lost time. And hey, they made good on their word—sent some friends of mine to spring me. But it was a doozy. Extradition's a bitch, too, and I ended up all the way back here…and somehow, I found my way to _you_. Fate's a nasty bitch, isn't she?"

I couldn't…I couldn't understand. I didn't understand. How could I…how was I looking at…at the man who killed her? At the man who, with just a twitch of one finger, ripped her away from me for the rest of my life? Took away her bright, radiant smile, her limitless future, in just a second?

"Why…" I managed, my voice breaking pathetically as I felt my throat bob. I felt the hatred pouring into my eyes, my good fist clenching in fury, adrenaline replacing the pain in my body. "_Why_…"

He blinked, smirking. "Because they paid me. You know, I remember, she was alone when I shot her. On her way to meet someone. Do you want to know what happened?"

Turning my head away from him, I blinked rapidly, trying very hard not to let this monster see me cry for her. He chuckled, edging closer to me, and in one swift movement, his hand was around my throat, his mouth beside my ear. I wheezed, wriggling to dislodge him, but he wasn't budging. He wasn't cutting off my airway, or even holding me in place, so much—it was a simple show of power. Dominance.

"She looked good that day," he said quietly, and I stared unwaveringly at the ceiling, blinking. Breathing. Trying not to hear. "Dressed up, some makeup on. Her hair was pretty, too. She was walking, smiling. She was excited. She stopped at the crosswalk…they'd been very specific, too, shoot her at a crosswalk while she waited. She took out her phone and looked down, started typing…and I was watching her through my scope the whole time."

I blinked, taking a shuddering breath, trying to turn away from him, but there was nowhere to go. There was nowhere to run.

"I took aim," he said, slowly, deliberately, each word carefully selected to inflict pain, "and I made sure I had her dead center in my scope. No room for failure. I waited until she looked up. The sun was in her eyes…she was shading them with her hand, looking around. She turned back to the crosswalk, holding the strap of her bag. I waited…just another second…and then…"

The words were on my lips. The words to beg him to stop, to plead for him to quit talking. To ask him to kill me or hurt me…anything but this. Anything but this.

But I knew Sabina wouldn't want me to give in, so with a shuddering heart, I listened.

"…then I pulled the trigger, and watched through my scope as the bullet hit her. Right between the eyes. It snapped her head backwards immediately. Blood went everywhere…the suit behind her was pretty put out, I'd imagine. I can't imagine the dry-cleaning bill." I heard him smirk beside me, releasing my throat and patting my chest as I looked away, my chest heaving as I tried to silence the agony in my heart. "Her body folded to the ground, and everyone started screaming, and panicking…but she didn't move. And that was all it took to break you, I'd imagine."

The quiet words were spoken slowly. I understood all of them. I closed my eyes as unimaginable pain wracked me, and it had nothing to do with the sepsis. Slowly, he let me go, and I turned away, quiet agony overtaking my mind.

"I told you," he confirmed, watching me fall apart in front of him, even as I tried desperately not to. "I always get my way."

After a moment more, watching me valiantly hold the tears at bay though I wanted nothing more than to scream in anguish at the gaping hole inside of me, where Sabina's love and support had been unequivocally ripped from me, Hollis stood. He brushed off his orange pants, looking down on me. Keeping his eyes on mine, I stared at him with all the hatred I could muster, even as he fished the picture out of his pocket.

He smirked, tore it in half, and tossed the pieces beside me.

"Think about that until I kill you, which will be in the next hour or so," he assured, making his way to the ladder. "Our exfil is coming soon. Do what you need to do, pray, yell, cry…but just remember you're going to die just like she did. Alone."

And then he was gone, the thunderous boom of the trap door just as horrible as always.

I stared at the ceiling, my chest hitching in an effort to keep my composure. In a monumental effort, I reached over with my good hand, shakily grabbing the torn picture and putting it back in my pocket. I kept with me everywhere I went, and death wouldn't be an exception.

I shivered, but I couldn't tell if it was from the cold, or shock. Distantly, I realized I probably needed to warm up some…but I also had a fever, so that would just work against me. I grabbed clumsily at Bear's jacket, tugging it out from under my head and panting in exertion as I tried to spread it over my torso in some effort for comfort.

It was warm. It helped a bit.

Despite being on the brink of death, having absolutely no energy left in my body, the adrenaline needed an outlet. I settled for letting the jacket's zipper rest in my good hand, fiddling with it absently as I thought, using the pain to sharpen my mind.

I was broken. I was devastated. I was hopeless.

But Hollis had underestimated me. Because above all that, above the exhaustion and pain and _agony_ and heartache…

…I was furious. I was enraged. I was vengeful.

I had an hour to think. To plan. I knew, that no matter what I did, I couldn't save myself.

But if I was going to die, I was going to drag Hollis with me. No matter what it took.

…

He came for me an hour later.

He swung himself down, and Irishman 1 crouched at the opening of the hatch, smirking down at me. "Time ta die, lad. Hope you've made yer peace."

Hollis, without even waiting for a preamble, hefted me over his shoulder to ascend the ladder. Being so close to him, being against him, was perhaps one of the worst moments of my captivity—and bloody hell, of course he made a comment about it—but it didn't last long.

I couldn't keep my eyes open very long upside down, my head spinning as each step sent a wave of pain through me. My limbs hung limp, but I registered the change in sound as we exited the cabin. Hollis walked a few paces, leaves and dried twigs crunching under his feet, before he shoved me off his shoulder to fall.

I landed on my side, a cry of pain torn from my lips, and coughed weakly, blinking. Hollis shoved a boot at my side, my body rolling onto my back. I blinked hazily at the sky.

Hollis came to stand over me, one foot on each side of my prone body, and leaned down. "My exfil is almost here, soldier boy. Your friends aren't coming for you." He said something to one of the Irishmen, and the one from the storefront who'd posed as the store clerk took his automatic weapon, giving him a handgun, instead. Out of the corners of my eye, I saw the Irishmen shout that they were going to secure the perimeter before exfil arrived, as a precaution.

"You've been fun," he said with a smirk. "But time's up. I'm going to leave your body right out here in the open, so when your rescue party arrives, it's going to be the first thing they see. You'll forever be a sign of failure stained in their memory."

He checked the clip, all of his movements in full view as I could only stare up at him, my breath coming in shallow gasps. My body was utterly fatigued. I was dehydrated, and hungry, and cold, and hot, and in agony. And angry.

"Do you have any last words?" He asked, pressing the cold metal of the handgun against my forehead. I stared up at him, opening my mouth to speak. I thought quickly…his face was about a foot away from mine; he was bending low over me, making this personal.

I smiled, a laugh bubbling in my fatigued chest. Hollis' smirk faded, and his eyes narrowed. "What the hell's so funny?" As he spoke, the gun wavered as he raised his arms, preparing to rise.

But before he could even finish the statement or rise out of range, in a final act of fury, in a desperate attempt to get a small sliver of justice for Sabina while I still had the ability, I acted. I used the little strength I had left, relying heavily on adrenaline and the range in my blood, and I shoved the zipper I'd pried from Bear's jacket into Hollis' left eye.

The sound was gruesome enough, a deep squelch that would stick with me and haunt my dreams for years, but the sight of it was indelibly burned in my memory. I shoved _hard_, knowing that if this was the only revenge I got, it had to count, and the zipper was buried all the way into his pupil, the white of his eye red from gushing blood and burst blood vessels.

As soon as it even touched his eye, he screamed bloody murder, jerking back instinctively, but not before I buried the thing all the way. His fist clipped my already-sore face, dazing me, but I'd done what I could. He dropped the gun, grabbing at his eye with both hands as his back arched, stumbling off of me and to the side. He fell beside me, a couple feet away, roaring in pain.

I didn't think it would kill him. Probably not. But an eye for an eye was as much as I could do, and by God, I'd done it.

"Extradition's a bitch…and fate's…a bitch…" I breathed, looking up at him with murder in my eyes as he cupped his bleeding eye, his other eye wide in pain and anger, "but…so is karma, motherfucker."

Even as he was bleeding from his punctured eye, he seethed. His body was hunched over in agony, and he was having trouble, but I couldn't take advantage of the distraction. I'd spent my energy on that one last burst of adrenaline, and I was…done. I was done. There was nothing more I could do.

I closed my eyes, fully expecting to be shot as he reached for the gun, teeth grit in pain and rage.

So naturally, when I heard the gunshot, my body convulsed, every muscle tightening in anticipation and panic, sending waves of pain roaring over me. After a few seconds, though, a few breaths, through the ringing of panic in my ears, I heard shouts. More spurts of gunfire.

Hesitantly opening my eyes to the pale dawn, I flicked my gaze around, trying to figure out what was going on. Rolling my head slightly to the side, I saw…Hollis, on the ground, bleeding from his shoulder as well as his eye, now. He was cursing in earnest, scrambling for his gun and shouting for his friends, but the shouts of Irish curses didn't sound promising.

The next instant, I heard a brief pause in the gunfire, a final spurt or two, and then running footsteps.

The next moment, I saw two blurred forms throw themselves on Hollis, turning him over and cuffing his hands behind his back as he spat curses and insults. Another blurred form threw themselves to their knees beside me, his voice lost through the thick cotton that surrounded my head. Everything was…fuzzy, and unclear, and difficult to understand.

"—ease, come on, _please_ look at me," a frantic voice said, even as they inserted a needle into my elbow. "Where the _bloody hell_ is that Med-Evac?" They shouted, their voice raw from the volume. "Jaguar, you bastard, I did _not_ run two hours with a bullet wound to get back to you only to have you die, so you're going to bloody well look at me!"

"Jaguar," another voice, familiar like the first, said, their face hovering next to the first one, eyebrows pinched in concern. I knew them. I…

"…Bear," I managed, the word falling from my lips in a shallow exhalation. "Lion, Tiger…"

Bear's head dropped in momentary relief, and Lion broke into a relieved grin. Behind him, Tiger, who still sat on Hollis, looked over with a sigh of relief, as well. "Scared the bloody shit out of us," Tiger said quietly, pressing his thumb into Hollis' shoulder wound when he continued to scream insults.

"Listen, the helicopter's going to be here any minute now," Bear said quickly, handing Lion a roll of bandages with a quiet instruction. "They're going to airlift you to a nearby hospital, and we're going to get this under control. You did great, mate, you held out until we could get to you, but you just need to fight a little more."

I blinked, staring at him as his eyes darted in every direction, checking the fluid bag in his hand as it dripped into my veins, taking my blood pressure with a quiet curse, and feeling my pulse with dirty, bloodied fingers. Absently, I noticed a bandage wrapped tight around his shoulder, a couple specks of blood at the very top of his collarbone.

"…you came…back," I managed, utterly relieved at the knowledge without knowing why. Absently, I felt Lion gently cutting the tattered remains of Bear's shirt from my wound, looking on in worry.

"Of course I did, you twit," he said with a grin, looking more like his old self. "I promised I would. We don't leave anyone behind."

Taking a moment to let the words sink in, I swallowed, my throat sand dry. I gave a quiet, short laugh, letting my eyes slipped closed. Maybe the SAS…wasn't so bad after all.

"No sleeping," Tiger barked, catching my eyes drifting shut. Lethargically, I blinked them back open. In my periphery, I caught familiar forms—the Frenchmen, it seemed—hauling Hollis' friends through the trees to waiting transport vehicles…I wondered how they'd gotten them all the way out here.

I watched as Hollis was yanked up none-too-gently by Tiger, his eye still bleeding where the zipper was embedded, blood soaking into his orange pants and white shirt as blood dripped from his gunshot wound. He was led away, spitting curses at me and at the others and at everyone he could.

Distantly, I heard a helicopter come through, but the sound didn't fade. In fact, it got louder and the wind picked up significantly, my hair blowing into my eyes as it descended to hover above us, a spotlight helping Bear and the others work. I heard new voices, saw running figures carrying something between them.

"—lift you onto the stretcher," someone said, gently shaking my shoulder. I hissed in pain, wheezing another shallow breath, and looked at Lion, whose hand was steady on my chest. "We're going to follow you to the hospital in one of the cars. You're going to be alright. Just hang on."

I blinked even as his form disappeared, replaced by unfamiliar faces shouting Slavic-sounding commands, fixing an oxygen mask over my face and taking the fluids bag from Bear's hands, pushing him firmly aside. The blurring blades of the helicopter against the purpling sky, the white noise of chaos in the background, and the distant knowledge that I was somewhat safe, at least for now, worked in tandem to pull me forcefully towards sleep, despite the repeated commands to stay awake.

Slowly, as pain consumed me as they lifted me onto the stretcher and secured me there, rushing me below the helicopter so they could raise me via pulley, I watched the sun rise over the treetops, the barest hint of red muddying the purple horizon.

As they began to raise me slowly, the cords helping the stretcher ascend to the sky, I got a glimpse of the sun rising over the forest. It was magnificent, the sky painted in golden shades of red and blue. I would have loved to share it with Sabina. And Jack, and Ian. In another life, my Mum, and Dad.

Watching the sun, the air quiet save the helicopter for the first time in what seemed like months, I let myself sleep.

**A/N: No, guys, I didn't kill him, stop freaking out.**

**Anyways! He's safe! And, in typical AR fashion, despite the overwhelming odds stacked against him, he lasted until his unit could save him and got some revenge for Sabina. Speaking of which, how'd you like that twist?**

**For those of you inevitably complaining that it was an unrealistic twist (and I know you're out there because I would be among you)…hold onto that ;)**

**Anyways, thank you all so much for everyone continuing to stick with this story! I liked writing this chapter for some reason. I hope you liked L-Unit to the rescue :) To everyone following and favoriting, I am ETERNALLY grateful. Also THANK YOU for over 200 follows! Ahhh that means so much! **

**And of course, thanks so much to ALL of my amazing reviewers: Aurelia Cotta, LoveRider, Em0Wolf, OwlQueen08, Guest, Riderkitty, onedemoniclily, seth8627, Guest, Sueberry, Guest, Asilrettor, Guest, and rolltide7!**

**LoveRider: You're absolutely right! We shall see….;)**

**Em0Wolf: Aw thanks so much, I'm so happy you're happy! I appreciate that so much!**

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**Guest (I love this so much): Thank you so much!**

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**Stay tuned for more! **


	13. Chapter 12

Voices drifted to me through thick fog, muffling some of the words. I was warm, but not uncomfortably so, and things felt…tight? Like my body wasn't my own. Like someone was squeezing me. My left arm felt the tightest. Something was definitely squeezing that.

My throat and mouth felt like a dry boneyard. I tried to swallow, but I couldn't even muster the energy. I was bloody _tired_. What the hell had I been doing? Had I been on a mission? Shit, was I being interrogated? Or held?

"—brain waves are more active," an accented voice said near me, a rustle of fabric punctuating the sentence. "He might be waking up."

Sounded like a doctor. But it didn't sound like Dr. Grief or Dr. Three. That was enough to settle me for a moment.

"About bloody time," another voice growled low, but something about it made me think it wasn't as angry as it sounded. I hoped not. I didn't think I could deal with anyone yelling at me right now.

"Is he okay?" Yet another voice. Geez, how many people were in this room? They sounded genuinely concerned, though, so at least that was promising.

"He's fine. Like I said, he's a miracle. He should have been dead four days ago, and somehow, he's healing quickly. He—oh, I think he's coming around."

As the mysterious voice said the words, I pried my eyelids open. Unfortunately, I couldn't see much of anything—I could tell I'd been out of it for a long time. Everything was blurred, and colors were bleeding into each other as I flicked my eyes around, too tired to move my head just yet. I stared at a white ceiling, muddled colors in my periphery.

"Jaguar?" A new voice said, and for some reason, I'd been waiting for one more voice, and that was it. It was closer than the rest. "You with us?"

Blinking again, I flicked my eyes in that direction, towards the voice, and squinted at the blurred form beside me.

"Give him a minute," the only unfamiliar voice cautioned, walking around where I lay to look at something else beside me. "He may be a little disoriented."

I was. Very. But as the form cleared and my vision bled into focus, I blinked twice more, and recognized Lion leaning over me. He had dark circles under his eyes, but he was smiling. "Took you long enough."

I blinked again, managing a half-smile. I supposed I'd worried him. That was odd. But not totally unexpected, I supposed.

"He's alive!" I recognized one of the other voices, now Bear's, shout from across the room. I wondered where he was; he sounded kind of far away to be in a chair or something. Maybe he was by the window.

"Good morning, Jaguar," the unfamiliar voice said, and I couldn't quite stop the flinch at the suddenness. Looking up, I saw a middle-aged man with silver hair standing beside a sophisticated monitor, his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. "I'm Dr. Svoboda. How are you feeling?"

"…good," I managed, the word rasped in little more than a whisper.

He smirked, looking unconvinced. "I wouldn't go that far, but you're doing well. Do you know where you are?"

Furrowing my brows, I shook my head. Was I supposed to?

"They airlifted you to a Czech hospital," Tiger provided, and I rolled my head towards him. He was sitting in an armchair beside me, but angled away, towards the window. His feet were propped up on the other bed, which, I belatedly realized, held Bear.

Bear looked fine, hyper as ever, so I assumed he'd begun to shift back into his comedic persona. However, he was still pale, with dark bags under his eyes, and there were bandages around his head and shoulder. I remembered the head wound, but not the shoulder wound.

"Bear…?" I asked quietly, looking intently at the bandage.

Bear blinked at me, and said, "Yeah, I'm here. What's up?"

As much as I could, I nodded towards his shoulder, flicking my eyes to it intently, and then back to his face.

As understanding crossed his eyes, he snorted. "I hate you. You went into septic shock hours before you could get medical help, you were unconscious for three days, and you've just woken up, and you're looking at me like I'm about to keel over. I'm fine, Jag. Bullet clipped me as I was running away, but I'm really just here because I was dehydrated. I won't even need physical therapy for it."

I felt some of the tenseness ease from my shoulders. "Good," I managed.

"You twit. Focus on yourself for a minute," he replied, pointing at the doctor. "The doc is wondering how you're alive."

Confused, I turned my head back to Lion and the doctor. Lion looked like he had finally relaxed, one foot propped on the edge of my bed, his chin resting on his hand as he watched the scene with a smile. He looked tired.

The doctor, however, looked intrigued. "Your friend is right. You're a medical miracle. Most people who come in in your condition require a coffin, and at the very least, an amputation. You're by no means back to full health, but notwithstanding any sudden complications, you should make a full recovery. There may be some lasting effects, I'm afraid, but nothing that should dramatically impact your ability to live a full life."

As he went on, I felt myself begin to relax some, blinking at the ceiling and exhaling in relief. That had been a lot of my fear in that cellar—that they'd have to amputate my arm, or fingers, or that I'd be rescued only to die in the hospital because I couldn't combat the infection.

"We've been keeping you on an antibiotic cocktail and fluids," Dr. MacFarland continued, flipping to another page in his chart. "But I'd like you to try drinking something now, and eating some light foods later this evening or tomorrow, depending on how you're feeling. Do you have any questions so far?"

I glanced at my arm, which was secured tightly to my body in an, immobilizing sling. My bicep, where the cut had occurred, was wrapped completely in white bandages. "How's my arm?"

"Healing well, considering," the doctor admitted. "Bear did well keeping it clean when he could, which probably prevented the infection from worsening. You'll need to be in the sling for at least two weeks, and then you can start building the strength in the limb back up. I'd say two months until you're back to normal for the limb, maybe three months overall. You're in the British SAS?" I nodded, the prospect of months without being able to fully use my body slightly panicking, but more comforting than what I thought I'd hear. "I'll talk to your general physician, or whoever you see on base, but you should be cleared for active duty in late January, if everything goes well."

It was late October now, so…that wasn't a horrible prospect. Not at all, especially considering I'd been on Death's damn welcome mat.

"I'll warn you, it may be hard for you to do things for yourself over the next few weeks," he cautioned, looking serious. "Things like getting out of bed, bathing, going to the bathroom. You'll need help for the first couple weeks. Your body is still fighting the infection, and you're not going to have a lot of energy."

Well. That was going to suck, considering I didn't have anyone who fit that bill. I hoped my face didn't give anything away.

"Besides that…I'm very impressed with your progress. We'll talk about some lasting side effects later, but right now, would one of you mind grabbing him a water bottle from down the hall?"

In the end, Tiger went, claiming he needed to get some coffee, anyways. He steadily denied Bear's request to sneak him a cup, considering he needed to be on a water and sports-drink only diet for the next few days.

Dr. Svoboda left with another nod, and then it was just the four of us.

"Have you been here…the whole time?" I asked dubiously as Lion unscrewed the water bottle.

"Obviously," he answered, scooting his chair up closer to the bed.

"L-Unit rule established long before you were here," Tiger commented. "Nobody's alone in the hospital. And each patient can only have one visitor right now, so we kind of dropped the military card and had them put you in the same room so we could all be together. Less of a mess."

I snorted. "Your soft side is showing."

He flipped me off.

I huffed a laugh, reaching for the water bottle in Lion's hand, but he just raised an eyebrow and looked at me. "Can you even hold this, mate?"

"Yes." Well, I didn't know, honestly, but my answer was confident enough. Even if my shaking hand wanted to prove me wrong.

He sighed. "Jaguar. We all recognize that you're a capable, independent kid. But you need some help right now, just like we all do in time. Do you want me to tell you about the time Tiger fractured his leg and Bear and I had to help him in and out of the tub at our apartment? Because it was a bloody traumatic experience, but I'll give you the highlights, if it'll make you feel better."

"Oh, God, please don't," Bear groaned, scowling. Tiger, in a contrary and uncharacteristic show of embarrassment, blushed crimson, dragging a hand down his face. "I still have nightmares."

"I'm gonna kill all of you gits," Tiger muttered.

I huffed another laugh, the small action tiring me already. "Let me try?"

Lion, in a show of complete lack of faith, put the cap back on before handing me the bottle, probably so I wouldn't spill it all over the place dropping it. Which I did. Damn thing slipped through my fingers even before Lion let go of it.

Bear laughed from across the room. "For the record, I believed in you." With trembling fingers, I flipped him off.

Lion helped me drink about half the bottle, holding it and holding my head steady up off the pillow, before cutting me off. My stomach had been empty for a while, and I needed to take it slow. I tried not to feel completely useless, but there wasn't much I could do; I felt like a bloody invalid, and it was freaking me out. If SCORPIA or MI6 found me like this, what was I going to do?

"You sure you're feeling okay?" Lion asked, putting a hand on my forehead, not unlike Bear. I kind of hated it when they did that. Reminded too much of Jack, of comfort. "You're pale."

I swallowed, shrugging. "Fine. Just…how did everything work out?"

Lion didn't look convinced, but he leaned back, rubbing his eyes. He was looking really tired, actually. "Hollis was safely dropped in Kiev two days ago, half-blind. Nice, by the way."

I wanted to be happy, or at least satisfied, that Sabina's death hadn't gone completely unpunished, but I couldn't bring myself to be when I thought of her dead in California. I settled for deflecting emotion altogether, commenting, "Your jacket needs a new zipper, Bear."

Tiger snorted, and Bear paled for a second, his face displeased. "I'm not saying I'm not happy you got some revenge on that prick, because I am, but it was a _nasty_ sight, mate."

I nodded in agreement. It was indeed. Not nasty enough, though.

"Anyways," Lion said, continuing on, "The French, Czech, and German governments all sent their own troops to escort him and his new friends in a big convoy, but I have a feeling that was his master escape plan. It was nothing short of a damn miracle we got back to you as fast as we did. Bear ran the whole way and passed out right after he made the phone call."

Lion shot him a dark look, which didn't escape my notice. "And then the bloody idiot insisted on coming on the rescue mission, dehydrated and malnourished and _shot_."

I turned to look at Bear, who was looking properly chastised. "I _did_ promise Jaguar I was coming back. Besides, mate, you didn't look good when I left you. I was bloody worried, sue me."

I recalibrated, realizing he was talking to me. I supposed I hadn't looked great. "I'm okay now," I defended. "And if you hadn't gone, we'd both be dead."

He nodded, looking away, some of his cheer draining from his posture. "Don't…make me do that again. That bloody sucked, leaving someone behind."

I blinked, looking down. "Sorry."

"Nobody's at fault, and nobody has any reason to feel guilty," Lion said, his voice hard. "You did what you needed to to survive, and everyone's here, which is all I care about."

"Code for shut up, you ignorant twits," Tiger muttered, readjusting his feet on Bear's bed. "If Lion won't say it, I will."

Lion smirked. "Thank you, Tiger. Best communications expert for miles."

Tiger flipped him off. This unit really had a thing for that, apparently.

"So, Jaguar," Lion said, and the shift in his tone made me nervous. "Feel up to holding a conversation?"

I blinked, not liking the sound of that. "I thought we already were."

"This one's a little more serious. Do you want to rest up a little more before then? You look tired."

I took the out, nodding as my eyelids drooped. "Yeah."

Lion nodded, smiling. "Get some sleep, then. We'll try to keep it down." He patted my ankle and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. I supposed he needed the rest as much as I did.

Feeling exhausted even after just a few minutes of consciousness, I let myself relax. Quiet whispers assured me that I was safe. Not even…not even just content, or okay, but safe. They weren't leaving, anyways. That was enough to put me at ease.

…

"—not picking up?" I heard Lion's voice as I came back to awareness, sounding agitated. "How many times have you tried?"

There was no response. I assumed, as I fuzzily became more aware, that he was on the phone. I couldn't hear Tiger or Bear.

Lion sighed, big and heavy, sounding utterly done. "I've tried six or seven times myself. They're not going to pick up if they haven't already. Uh-huh. Yes, sir. I'll tell him. Thank you, sir."

I heard a beat of silence, and then he sat heavily in the chair beside the bed.

He didn't seem to be in a good mood. I had half a mind to slip back into sleep to avoid that, but I figured I was only putting off the inevitable. Blinking slowly, I let my eyes adjust to the bright lights, looking over at him. He was scrolling through the phone he'd received for the mission, to communicate with the Sergeant and other teams, looking upset.

"What's wrong?" I asked quietly, trying not to startle him. He flinched, not expecting my voice, but looked up anyways, rubbing his eyes.

"What's wrong is you're a puzzle with a lot of missing pieces," he said bluntly, dragging a hand through his hair. "And every time I think I find a piece, I find out I'm missing another one."

I blinked in surprise, not expecting the restrained outburst from him. He was usually calm and collected—I'd expect something like that from Tiger, but not him. "Um…what did I do?"

Lion pinched the bridge of his nose, looking up with a tight expression. "Sorry. I'm not…I'm not mad, really, just frustrated. We'll talk about it when Tiger and Bear are back."

I looked over at Bear's now-empty bed, the chair beside it also vacant of a certain pain in the arse. I supposed I was on some recent pain meds, because the prospect of the conversation was nerve-wracking, but not overly terrifying like it should have been. "Where are they?"

"Bear's being discharged," Lion supplied, glancing toward the door. "They should be back any minute. They just went to get Bear some more clothes and sign some forms."

I nodded. "That's good," I said honestly. I was glad Bear was going to be alright. I glanced at Lion, who nodded absently. "Are you alright? You look exhausted."

Lion blinked heavily, dragging a hand down his face with a wry smile. "That's uncharacteristic of you."

I blinked, realizing he was right. "I'm usually more open on pain meds," I admitted with a scowl, turning away. "Bloody hate them."

Lion snorted. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just tired. I've been a bit worried, you know."

"Why, though?" I asked before I could stop myself. "I get that—that I'm in your unit, and everything, but you shouldn't be running yourself down over me. I haven't known you very long."

Lion took a second, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before shaking his head, a disbelieving scoff leaving his lips. "You know, I really think I'd smack you if you weren't already injured," he said at the end of a long-suffering sigh. "I don't know how many times you need to hear it before it's true, but L-Unit is a dysfunctional family. You're dysfunctional enough by yourself, mate. You fit right in. We're in your corner. We give a shit whether you live or die. How am I doing? I have a couple other variations."

I blinked, trying to follow the words. "Um…fine, I suppose. I just…didn't think things like this…happened this fast." At least they hadn't in my experience. And if they did, it was too good to be true.

He shrugged, looking away. "Relationships aren't all about time, Jaguar. They're also about how much you're willing to give, and entrust." He sent me a pointed look.

"Sorry," I offered, blinking heavily. I wasn't exactly tired, since I'd just woken up, but…everything was heavy. Numb. I supposed that was why nothing hurt, though it should have. "Everything's…complicated."

Lion looked like he was about to reply, but he was cut off by Tiger and Bear re-entering the room, Bear dressed in plainclothes. "Oh, he's awake," Bear said with a grin, patting my shoulder as he sat beside me, Tiger dragging a chair over to do the same. "How are you feeling?"

"Weird," I said honestly, glancing at the fluids bag. "Tired."

"They're got you on the good stuff," Tiger confirmed, propping his feet on my bed and crossing his arms. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

"Ok," I conceded. I glanced back at Lion, waiting for him to continue.

He caught my eye and looked down, rubbing his neck. "I know you're tired, but there are some things we really need to sort out."

I was sure no one failed to notice the beeping of the heart monitor speeding up, but I nodded, nonetheless. It was becoming a bit more frightening now. "Okay. Can I sit up?"

Lion quirked a smile. "Of course. You don't need to ask, Jag."

Huh. I kind of liked Jag. At least, it was the most dignifying nickname they'd given me so far.

I pushed the button on the remote, tilting the bed up so I'd feel somewhat dignified as they grilled me for answers I probably wouldn't be willing to give. Bear, without asking, helped me readjust myself, the action tiring me more than I was comfortable with. I nodded in thanks, feeling my neck heat up in embarrassment. Luckily, no one commented.

"Okay," Lion said, nodding almost to himself as he fished a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. "Ready?"

"There's a list?" I asked nervously, eyeing the scrawled-on paper in his hands.

"Obviously. Every time we thought of a question, it led to another one. And I forget things easily."

Shifting, already feeling uncomfortable, I fiddled with the blanket over my legs, the coarse fabric rough against my dry hands.

"Number one, and currently most important—why the hell can no one get in touch with your emergency contact?" Lion asked, looking frustrated. "Between the Sergeant, the secretary, and myself, we've called thirty times. It keeps saying the line isn't connected."

_Oh_. Oh, that was…that was going to be hard to explain.

"Um…that's weird," I bullshitted, trying to look genuinely confused. I didn't meet their eyes. There wasn't a thing weird about it, considering the number I'd put was my cell phone that had been disconnected God knows how long ago.

"Who's the contact?" Tiger asked, eyes hard. Damn. None of them were messing around.

"Uh…I think I put my friend Tom…" I lied, conjuring up any excuse I could think of. Come on, I'd _literally_ convinced Herod Sayle, a mastermind, that I was called _Alex_ as a nickname for _Felix_. Confidence is key. Why was it so hard to lie to them? "He's pretty busy. He lives in Italy. He may have forgotten to let me know he changed his number, or some…thing…"

I trailed off, finally resuming eye contact, to find a myriad of emotions across my unitmates' faces. Bear was looking unconvinced, for one thing, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. Tiger looked…pissed. And Lion…maybe he was the worst, because he just looked disappointed.

And I realized it was so hard to lie to them because…because I didn't want to.

"What's it going to take for you to trust us, just a little?" Lion asked, his face dead serious. He looked disappointed, and upset, and frustrated. "I'm bloody worried about you, Jaguar. You took care of Bear, and made sure he got out of an awful situation, with no regard for your own safety. He told us that Hollis said you asked to be taken instead of him." I glanced at Bear, who was looking away, thoughtful. He looked upset, too. Tiger still looked pissed. Though I assumed that was his default expression.

"That _proves_ to me that you're a good kid. A good man. And I don't know your story, and from what I've seen, it's awful, and I get it if you don't want to tell us everything at once. But I showed you my scars _willingly_, and that took a lot. I don't show those to just anyone. Tiger told you he was sorry for being an arse, and that he was willing to accept you. Bear told you about Elliot, and I _know_ that was hard for him. And we fought tooth and nail to get back to you, to make sure you made it out of there alive. Bear did it with a _bullet wound_. Opening up is not supposed to be easy, Jaguar, and we've all done it first, and given you your space. But we've earned something. _Trust us_."

As he spoke, I found myself unable to look away from him. His voice was impossibly steady, and his eyes were determined, and open. He was leaning forward in his chair, his posture desperate. Kind of like me.

I glanced at Tiger, who, for once, didn't look too mad. He still had the same closed off expression, the same tight posture, but he was looking at me too, and his eyes were in agreement. He nodded, and from another person, it might have been almost reassuring.

I glanced next at Bear, who was looking away, fiddling with the bandages on his hands. I hadn't noticed them before. They were from where he clawed at the dirt. To get himself out. To get me out.

I looked back at Lion, who was still waiting. The heart monitor was beating impossibly fast. They had to notice it—it was the loudest sound in the room. I was terrified, and no matter how well I hid it, it would give me away every time. My hands shook.

I looked down, taking a shaking breath. What would it mean, if I told them? What would that mean about us? That I…that I was finally, finally accepting support? That would be good, wouldn't it? But then, what about what came after? The inevitability of putting them in danger, the legal issues…they didn't know what they were signing up for. They didn't know how dangerous it would be to know everything.

But…but no one said anything about telling them _everything_. Maybe. Maybe a little bit would be okay.

With my good arm, I pinched the bridge of my nose, taking another shaky breath. "It's…it's my old cell number. There's no contact."

The sentence lay thick in the air, and I was just as surprised as them that I'd made myself say it. I kept going, not letting myself think, or consider, or hypothesize. There was no after. There were no consequences. There were only the words, and all I had to do was say them. I wouldn't look at them—I could almost convince myself no one was hearing them. No harm done.

"I do…I do have a friend named Tom, and he does live in Italy. But…but we haven't spoken in almost two years, and I don't…I honestly don't know if his number is the same. I'm not sure if I remember it, anyways. And…and that's really it. There's no other contact."

There. I'd said it. I was bloody well and truly alone, and I'd admitted it.

There was a pregnant silence for a moment, and I wasn't sure I wouldn't cause the heart monitor to overload and crash, because my pulse was _racing_. That couldn't have been good for my overtaxed body. I was exhausted. But I could also feel the adrenaline running through my veins, unable to make myself look up.

"Thank you," Lion said quietly. "For trusting us with that."

Lion was so _weird_. He sounded more like a counselor than a hardened British SAS soldier. But it was what I needed, and maybe he knew that. I nodded, not looking up.

"Do you want to take a minute?" Bear asked, glancing nervously at the heart monitor. "Before we go on."

I shook my head, running a hand through my hair. It was greasy. I needed to wash it. I wondered how pathetic I must have looked, small and pale in this stupid hospital bed with a million wires, refusing to look at them as I slowly and painfully chipped away at the careful walls I'd taken months to construct. "Just…get on with it."

"Let me know if you want to stop," Lion said carefully, leaning back. He looked different. Maybe he'd assumed I was just being a little shit for the fun of it (because even I would admit that I could be one hell of a little shit). Maybe he hadn't considered that my entire life was in my duffle bag at the SAS barracks. "What about your parents? The Sergeant said they're on file.

I flinched, looking past Bear towards the window. It was cloudy outside. Looked like it was going to rain. "I don't know if…um…"

I took a shivering breath, feeling so, so tired. "Can I…detour?"

Lion nodded, looking even more concerned than when we started. "Sure."

"I'm…Tiger, do you…do you remember when you asked me why I…came to the SAS? To serve my country or to die?"

Tiger tilted his head, looking a lot more serious than I'd ever seen. He didn't look angry in the slightest. Just curious, and…maybe worried. Maybe. That was a stretch. "Yeah. I do."

I nodded, glancing at Bear, then at Lion, gaging their reactions. This was so much harder than I thought it would be. I was never, ever supposed to utter these words. To anyone. "I'm…neither. It's neither. I…I needed a place to hide, for a couple years. Just until…I could figure things out."

I kept going before anyone could stop me, desperate to get the words off my shoulders. The _world_ off my shoulders. I wanted someone else to know what I was so terrified of, so I didn't have to carry it alone. I was breaking apart under all the weight, and I finally had someone willing to take some of it. I hoped. I prayed, I _begged_ every deity in existence that I wasn't making a mistake.

"There are people after me," I admitted quietly, fisting the blanket in my good hand. "Really bad people. Really horrible people with a lot of power and influence and resources." I didn't have to specify. It was MI6 _and_ SCORPIA. It felt like the whole world was chasing me. "They're a lot of…why I…you know, look the way I do. The…the scars. And I knew that…that in the SAS, I'd be…doing some good while I was hiding. Maybe helping to save people, and making the world better. But it was also…off the grid, and covert, so really private, and…and I wanted…"

I paused, taking a shuddering breath. I had to force myself not to look at them. I wouldn't be able to keep going if I did. "I don't have anybody," I admitted, shaking my head as my voice cracked despite myself, clearing my throat. I felt heat flood my cheeks and neck, but I was already too far in to turn back. I had to finish at least this much. "I don't have anybody, and…I've seen the SAS work before, and…I wanted…that. To have someone, even if I didn't want to…you know, become friends with you. A unit. But…" I shrugged, giving them a little half-smile despite myself. "I suppose…I botched that, too.

"But…but I knew that…that when I joined, it would need to be in a way that I wouldn't be…found. By the people after me. So…a lot of my file is…white lies, or just fake. My real parents are dead. And I know, I know that's probably really illegal, and I'm really sorry, but I didn't think…I didn't think I'd be safe if I joined under my real information. And it wasn't to…I'm not a spy, or anything, it wasn't to deceive anybody. I just…I can't go back there. I can't let them find me. I really, really can't."

The quiet admission hung heavy. I didn't think they knew what to say—most people wouldn't, after such a confession. After the final word left me, I felt…I felt lighter, but also so _anxious_. I'd revealed it, the main thing I'd been hiding, that I…that my very presence was a fraud. That I was exactly what Tiger had accused me of being—a kid in over his head. I was so afraid that I'd lose this fragile bond of trust we'd somehow created. That they'd sell me out, and I'd have to leave again. Start over somewhere else. Or, that I'd trusted the wrong people, and in a day I would be in Royal and General in a cell, or interrogation room, or in SCORPIA's lair, or dead.

The silence lasted a long time, comparatively. Several seconds of utter silence, and in that whole time, I couldn't look at any of them. I couldn't make myself look at their reactions. I was too terrified I'd find anger, rejection, resentment. Fear. Distrust.

"I'm…I'm really sorry, Jaguar," Bear said quietly, on my left. The voice was sudden, and I flinched despite myself, the blanket still fisted in my hand.

Nevertheless, that wasn't what I'd been expecting. I'd expected accusations and a call to the Sergeant, and an immediate discharge. I'd expected abandonment, and anger. Not…not an _apology_.

"Why?" I asked, finally making myself look at him. I could deal with him. He was the easiest to read. I couldn't deal with Tiger or Lion just yet, but I could deal with Bear. He looked…nothing like I'd expected. He looked really upset. _Sad_. "You don't…you don't have anything to be sorry for."

"Yeah, but…we pushed you into talking about it, because we honestly thought…we thought it was something silly, or you were embarrassed." Bear shook his head, running a hand through his coarse dark hair. "We knew it was probably serious, but we didn't think it was…it was _this_ serious. This bad. And we pushed you into talking when you clearly weren't ready, and I'm sorry."

His eyes were serious, and sincere. He…he was _actually_ sorry. After I'd admitted to lying to him, deceiving him, and the entirety of the SAS, _he_ was apologizing.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," I argued, leaning back against the bed, exhausted. This was a lot more draining than I'd anticipated. "I lied to you."

"Yeah," Tiger said, and I didn't want to look at him. He must have realized that. "Look at me." After a second of hesitation, I did, trying to school my features. "You had a bloody good reason. We're not mad, idiot." He voice was gruff, as usual, but he didn't look angry. I took a deep breath, trying to keep the panic at bay. Trying to convince myself that, so far, they hadn't given me a reason to panic. "Bear's right. I'm not going to be as wishy-washy as him about it, but he's right. That was a lot of shit to unload, and we probably didn't go about it as smoothly as we could have. But you said it anyways, so…good on you."

I half-smiled at his awkward attempt at an apology / compliment, somewhat at ease by his unflinchingly hard personality. "Thanks."

He nodded, glancing away, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Jag," Lion said quietly. I _really_ didn't want to look at him. He was someone I'd found myself looking up to this past month—he was always such a steady presence, and I didn't want to see that disappointed look again. "C'mon. I'm not mad."

I glanced at him. He looked serious, as well, his posture intent and his gaze focused. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly, looking down. "They're both right. That was too much, especially in your state. I'm sorry. And…and thank you, for telling us all that. I know that was probably hard."

I nodded, panic clenching in my gut. "It was. It was…really hard. And it's really, really important that…that nobody finds out. Any of that." My tone, despite my best efforts to remain neutral and steady, was tinged with desperation. "I know that's probably going to be…hard, but…"

"Stop," Lion said, holding up a hand. He rubbed his eyes again, leaning back. "Don't do that. Don't doubt yourself, or us. We asked you to trust us. Granted, we didn't know it was going to be something this big, but we're a unit. We have each other's backs. All of this is safe with us." He smiled, and for the first time since I woke up, he looked happy. Not too tired, not upset. "I'm proud of you, kid. That took a lot of guts."

I breathed a laugh, looking down. "I…I didn't think it would go over this well."

"We're not monsters," Bear said with a smile, bumping my shoulder. "We're friends. And you can't even deny it anymore. You admitted it."

I laughed in full then, the action exhausting, but comforting. "I think that got lost in translation. Friends is a little off." I'd admitted to being a unit, yeah. Friends was still kind of a lot.

And then the world came to a halt.

"Did you mean brother?" Tiger asked, and I faltered, glancing at him. He had quirked a smile, eyebrow raised in a challenge. "Because like I'm sure you've noticed, we're a pretty dysfunctional family. I don't know if you can handle it."

"He's not wrong," Lion confirmed, grinning. "I'm not sure you're ready for all this."

I thought, for a cruel moment, they were joking, and I was...hurt, honestly. And then I looked at them.

Oh. They were serious. They really…they were really offering that.

"At least I'm not the baby anymore," Bear commented. "That bloody sucks. Jaguar, your turn. Thank you for taking the title from me. I don't want it anymore. You can have it."

They were…_actually_ offering that.

"But I lied to you," I argued, not quite sure I deserved that after everything I'd dished out to them. My voice was rising despite myself. "I lied to you, and everyone. You don't even know my name. How can—I—"

"Then what's your name?" Lion asked, still smiling calmly. Encouragingly. "I told you before. We've whole-heartedly accepted you, as a member of the unit and the family, and there's nothing you can do about it. And by the way, I'm Danny. Danny Walker."

"Henry Johnson," Bear said, flashing a peace sign. He was ridiculous. It was enough to draw a little laugh from me.

"Oh, this is ridiculous," Tiger griped, but sat up, nonetheless. "I'm Sam Okinawa. Yes, I realize I have a weird name. No, you're not allowed to make fun of it."

I snorted, looking at the three of them. And I realized no matter how much I argued…they probably weren't going to listen to me. They seemed to have gone and decided a lot of things without me, and…I wasn't totally unhappy with that.

"I haven't told you everything," I admitted softly. "Is that…okay?" My age. I hadn't told them my age, and I didn't plan on it, because that _definitely_wo uldn't go over well.

"Yes," Tiger said, sarcasm at a minimum. "You've shared plenty today, kid. Your name's more than enough to keep us satisfied."

"And you won't tell anyone?"

"No," Lion said seriously. "Not even the Sergeant. It's safe here."

And I believed him. I believed all of them. I really did. I knew, with my luck, it would come back to bite me in the arse. My presence would catch up to them, just like it had with every other person I'd grown to care for. They'd get hurt. Maybe worse. I knew it was probably a bad, bad idea.

But I was selfish. I…I missed being Alex. Matthew was fine, but I missed being _Alex_. I missed being me. Being…someone I knew.

I was selfish. I figured, once in a while, I could be selfish.

After a long pause, I smiled at the blanket in my hand, finally relaxing my fist. "I'm…I'm Alex," I said quietly. "Alex Rider."

It felt like the weight of the world fell from my shoulders, and for the first time in seven months, I could finally breathe.

**A/N: Tears. I am crying tears. I love L-Unit with my entire, entire heart. They're so good to my boy.**

**Okay, ****_please_**** let me know what you thought of this chapter, even if you don't normally review. I tried to make the revelations 1) believable and realistic, 2) not cliché, 3) well-paced, and 4) not out of character, but I was also in the mindset of "holy crap I have given them five chapters of absolutely nothing but angst I HAVE to resolve some of this" and then this monster was born and I want to know if people thought it was okay or just kind of my word-vomit so I know what to edit please and thank you…**

**Also, I do have a question: I have several ideas, and I'm not sure all of them will kind of FIT into one "story." Like, I have the plan of doing 50 chapters for this arc, and then I have tentative ideas for more arcs. I have lots of ideas. So…in your opinion, should I do one story, just realllllly long, or multiple stories according to the arcs? Let me know! Thanks! **

**ANYWAYS! AHHHHHHHHH I'm blown away by the support guys thank you so much! To all my followers and favoriters, you make my day! And to all those who left reviews, OnlyABookworm, Verdantia Akalixi, Raalina, Guest, ProcrastinationAndCoffee, hunterjk123, Riderkitty, rolltide7, LoveRider, otterpineapple06, Asilrettor, Leticia99, KMER79, Sakshi06, and Guest!**

**Guest (I love this story): Thank you so much! **

**LoveRider: I KNOW he's so awful we hate him, and THANKS!**

**Guest (Great chapter!...): Thanks so much! I think that'll be next chapter XD**

**Guest (Ich bin so froh…): Vielen Danke! Ich bin so froh, dass du die Geschichte geniegeniest! Haha danke, dass du mich über die Grenzen informiert hast, ich wusste es nicht! Auch war er nur von der Zeitumstellung überrascht, weil er irgendwie aus ihr heraus war. Sie haben Recht, er würde völlig wissen, es XD Danke so viel für so eine tolle Bewertung, und für das Lesen! Entschuldigung über fehlerbegabte Fehler, ich verwende Google Translate**

**Thank you all SO much for all your continued support. I'm so glad you're all enjoying this story, and there is a lot more to come :)**


	14. Chapter 13

"This is healing very well, considering everything," Dr. Svoboda observed, manipulating my arm gently. He held my bicep and forearm in each hand, examining the wound clinically. I didn't exactly want to look at it, but I didn't want to seem spineless, either. Tiger was sitting in the armchair beside me, feet propped on my bed (as usual), watching the doctor work. "The infection's been contained, and you're looking a little more alert. How do you feel?"

I nodded, glancing at my arm and promptly looking away. The skin was still discolored, but I guessed it was looking a lot better, anyways. I still didn't want to look at it. "Better. More awake."

I was glad to have Tiger here, even though he…well, out of all of them, he had the worst bedside manner. Lion and Bear were getting some much-needed rest at a hotel down the block. Tiger had been reading a book when I'd woken, sending me a glance of acknowledgement before continuing to read. Still, his presence was comforting; at least I wasn't alone.

Dr. Svoboda nodded, looking pleased. "Well, you'll need to stay a few more days for observation and to make sure everything's under control, but you're healing remarkably well. You've still got a bit of a fever, which is our main concern, but it's much lower than when you were brought in. I'm inclined to label it a medical miracle." He set my arm gently back in the sling and scribbled something on his chart, and I waited, fingers on my good hand tapping anxiously. He'd said he wanted to discuss long-term effects and a couple other medical issues, and I was kind of nervous.

Tiger nudged my leg with his foot, and I glanced at him. "Calm down," he said with a pointed look at the heart monitor. His eyes were narrowed.

Oh. Yeah, it was beeping kind of fast.

"Not a fan of doctors?" Dr. Svoboda asked with a smile, looking unperturbed. "I wasn't either as a kid."

I shifted uncomfortably, trying for a smile as he pulled up the abandoned stool beside the bed and sat. "Just…never liked them much."

Doctor Three and Doctor Grief pretty much ruined that for me. As well as spending most of my time not on missions or not in school in hospital.

"I'll try to be quick, then," he said with a reassuring smile, propping his clipboard against his knees. He glanced at Tiger. "Some of this may be things you want kept private. Would you like Tiger to stay or go?"

Thrown off guard, I glanced at Tiger uncertainly. Tiger, characteristic scowl in place, shrugged. "Up to you, kid. I'll do whatever."

Well, this was…actually kind of a hard decision. Normally I'd ask that he leave, but…last night had thrown all my blinders off, and I didn't know what I was supposed to do now. On some level I kind of regretted sharing as much as I had, especially my name. What had I been thinking?

On the other hand, though, it was really nice to not be…a complete fake. To let Matthew take a break and let myself just _be_ for a while. Maybe that was a step in the right direction. I'd trusted Tiger last night, along with Lion and Bear…I figured I should trust him now, too.

"Stay?" I asked, trying to appear a little more confident than I felt.

With a shadow of a smile, he nodded.

Dr. Svoboda looked down at his chart and continued, "Alright, then. I'll start by saying, as I said yesterday, that there could be some lasting effects from the sepsis. First of all, your immune system will be compromised, probably for the rest of your life. You'll need to be very, very careful about keeping yourself healthy in the foreseeable future, and I'm going to prescribe you some immune boosters to take for a while. I'll transfer the prescription to your GP or your base, whichever you prefer."

I nodded, figuring as much. I already had a compromised immune system from the bullet wound and subsequent recovery, so now I'd just have to be extra careful, I supposed.

"Okay," he said, fishing out a pamphlet from under his stack of papers, handing it to me. On the cover, in fancy script, it read, "_I survived sepsis. What's next?" _It was thoughtful of him to find one written in English. "This is a general list of some things you might face in the near future, but I'll go over the big ones with you. Medically, a lot of people experience dry skin and dehydration, so it's especially important to stay hydrated, and a lot of people experience weakness or fatigue for several weeks after they're discharged, which can accompany general aches and pains and breathlessness. You'll need to take it easy when you're not in physical therapy.

"That being said, as I said yesterday, you'll need some help for a few weeks. Do you have someone who can help you with everyday tasks you need done? Getting to and from the bathroom, preparing meals, that kind of thing?"

I blanched, feeling the color drain from my face. Telling the others had been one thing, but I wasn't sure how much I could trust this doctor I barely knew, no matter how much he'd done for me. "Um—"

"He does," Tiger interrupted gruffly, rolling his eyes when I glanced at him, surprised. "I swear, Jaguar. You're the thickest bloke out there."

I blinked, snorting. I supposed that was deserved. I gave him a half-smile, which he acknowledged with a grunt that sounded halfway positive.

"Well, that's good," the doctor commented, moving on. He adjusted his glasses, continuing, "You're going to need a lot of help. Besides that, sepsis can be a traumatic experience for several people, and especially so in your case. You may experience things like nightmares, flashbacks, insomnia, anxiety, insecurity…things synonymous with post-traumatic stress disorder. I can prescribe you a sleep aid, if you'd like."

Well, that sounded like a typical Tuesday, for me. Nothing I hadn't dealt with before. "It's okay," I said. I needed to be able to wake up from the nightmares. "But thank you."

He nodded, his eyes furrowing the slightest bit. "One more thing. Weight loss is common after sepsis, as patients usually don't have much of an appetite. I did want to talk to you about that. Do you know how much an average male your age and height is supposed to weigh?"

I blinked, surprised. I saw Tiger look up intently, watching with intrigued eyes. "Um…I dunno…65 kilos, maybe? With my muscle mass?" I wasn't as buff as Lion, but I wasn't a beanpole, either. I was more on the lean side, I supposed.

"Between 60 and 66 kilos is optimal," he said, setting the chart down and leaning forward. "These questions are going to be a bit personal. Is that alright?"

I heard the monitor speed up, felt Tiger nudge me again, but I didn't look at him. "I suppose."

"Do you normally eat three meals a day? And are they a normal portion size for someone your age and height, as far as you know?"

"Um…" I started, not really knowing how to respond. I wasn't entirely sure where he was going with this. "I suppose…I have a bad habit of skipping meals sometimes," I admitted. "But not often." I also had a bad habit of getting sick after nightmares, which nixed dinner and killed my appetite for breakfast.

"I think it's a little more often than you think, mate," Tiger commented. Turning his eyes to the doctor, he said, "I'd say we're lucky to see him in the mess at all three meals three or four times a week."

I blinked, honestly surprised that 1) I was actually skipping that much, and 2) he'd noticed.

"That'll do it," the doctor said. "You're underweight, Jaguar. You weighed 54 kilos when you were brought in, and you've been on a mostly fluids diet for the past four days. Have you ever been diagnosed with an eating disorder?"

I didn't…really know how to respond to that. Obviously no, I hadn't, but…I ate when I was hungry. I just didn't have much of an appetite after everything that had happened. Some things just seemed more important than food, or I needed the time to collect myself, or…things just kept…happening.

"No," I said quietly, eyes wide. "I didn't…I didn't know. I mean…I guess I don't eat as much as I need, but I hadn't…noticed."

"Okay," the doctor conceded, leaning back. I couldn't make myself look at Tiger. I had no idea what his reaction would be, and I didn't really want to know. "Do you have any pre-existing medical conditions where weight loss is a common side-effect? Including mental disorders like depression, or PTSD?"

I flinched, looking away. I focused on the ceiling, taking a deep breath. "Um…" The Pleasures had been quick to take me to a psychiatrist in the first week of staying with them, who'd been quick to diagnose me with anxiety, depression, PTSD, insomnia brought on by nightmares and the anxiety, acute stress disorder, panic disorder, and phobias (which I didn't even know was an actual disorder until she diagnosed me).

I'd apparently been one of the most traumatized patients she'd ever worked with, and I'd revealed very little about my history, mostly sticking to the experiences themselves instead of the circumstances (MI6 and SCORPIA, namely)—I'd lasted three sessions before refusing to go back. She constantly asked about further studies, wanting to work with a neurologist she knew to do some studies on my brain functions and thought processes. I felt more like a lab experiment than a patient, so I'd elected against going back, and the Pleasures had let me.

Still, I didn't know how to reveal all that to Tiger and the doctor. It was one thing to reveal my name, and that I was being chased. It was one thing to rely on them for help and support for what little they knew, and another thing entirely to admit that I was this…broken. This damaged.

"Oi," Tiger said, his voice shocking me back into reality. I flicked my eyes to him, and I realized that I'd been breathing quickly. Tiger's eyes were narrowed in concern, and he'd leaned forward, his feet now on the ground instead of my bed. His hand was on my shoulder. How had I missed that? "Take a breath. No one's making you say anything."

I did, but it turned into more of a gasp. Shit. I hated it when this happened.

"I'm just going to assume it's yes," the doctor said with concerned eyes, marking something on his clipboard. "You don't have to tell me which specific ones, but I'm guessing anxiety? PTSD?"

Tiger's hand squeezed my shoulder in reassurance, though his face stayed characteristically unpleasant, and I have a hesitant nod. "Yes, um…both of those."

Well, it was easier not having to say it, at least. I felt pangs of embarrassment in my chest, face blushing from more than the fever.

"It's alright," Dr. Svoboda reassured. "I just wanted to make sure there was nothing wrong with you medically speaking; several patients lose weight when their gallbladder stops working, or if there's something wrong with your intestines or stomach. I didn't see any surgical scars, other than those associated with prior wounds, so I needed to double check." I nodded. Well, that was thoughtful. I felt kind of bad, now. "That being said, are you taking medication for those disorders? You really need to put some weight back on."

My good hand clenched the sheets on the bed, my heart feeling like it was going to pound out of my chest. I'd revealed so much more than I thought possible last night, and I was _spent._ I couldn't—I couldn't let another person know, especially one I didn't trust much. I couldn't make myself do that again, I couldn't—

"Could we talk about it and I'll give you the information you need?" Tiger asked suddenly, hand squeezing my shoulder again. "There are a couple confidential details I think he'd like kept private."

I glanced at him, a little pissed that he'd managed to surprise me so much in so little time. I shouldn't have been surprised, after all, because he seemed very willing to _help_, but I wasn't used to it. I didn't know how I was supposed to respond, or react.

"Well, I suppose that would be alright," the doctor said, cleaning his glasses and standing. His eyes were concerned and a bit guilty. "I'm sorry if those were uncomfortable, Jaguar. I had to make sure you were alright. For now, I'm going to give you something to calm down, okay?"

"Um…no, that's okay," I said quickly. I'd been drugged too many times to be alright with it. "I'm really fine, there's no need for it."

He looked unconvinced, glancing at my heart rate and oxygen levels, but something in my tone must have convinced him. "Alright. I'll come back in half an hour to check on you. If you're still not calm by then, though, I'll give you something. Fair?"

I gave him a tight nod, shoulders relaxing as he left. Tiger patted my shoulder and leaned back.

"Thanks," I said quietly, blinking at the ceiling. "For…you know."

"And that's why nobody's alone in the hospital," he said, stretching his back before settling back into the armchair, replacing his feet on my bed. "Dr. Svoboda's a good guy who means well, but doctors are so damn nosy."

I snorted, smiling. "Got that right."

"So. What do I need to tell him about the medication?" He asked, arms crossed over his chest. "You okay to tell me that much?"

Taking a deep breath, I nodded, glancing at him. It was easier now that it was just him. He already knew the big stuff…this wouldn't be as bad. And it was just him. I was sure he'd tell Bear and Lion, but as long as I wouldn't have to be there, or see their reactions…it was…easier. Doable.

"Yeah, I…yeah. Um…when I…you know, disappeared to come here as, uh, Matthew…I couldn't renew my prescriptions. And…I came from America, so I couldn't really…transfer them to another doctor, or anything. I guess just tell him that…I honestly don't want any," I said quietly. I hated the bloody drugs; taking them altogether made me feel like a zombie. It dulled my senses and my reflexes, and as much as I hated the flashbacks and nightmares and chest-crushing anxiety, I hated the feeling of helplessness more. "And if he prescribes them, I'm probably not going to take them. But…if he just wants to, I suppose, I used to take a sleep aid for nightmares and insomnia, something for anxiety, and something for depression."

The words came in a rush of air, and I focused on a point past Tiger, unable to look at him. God, I must have sounded like a disaster. I didn't even want to know how screwed up he must've thought I was.

"Do you remember the names, or dosages?" He asked, voice steady.

I shook my head. "No. I think the one for depression started with an R, but I'm not sure."

"Was it Rexulti?" He asked, scratching his ear. It may have been my imagination, but he looked uncomfortable.

I blinked, the name ringing a bell. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so. How'd you know?"

Tiger shrugged, shifting in his seat. It was his turn to look away. "That's what I'm on. Figured I'd give it a guess."

The confession threw me for a loop, and I couldn't respond for a few seconds. That was…unexpected. And I never, ever thought I'd hear Tiger admit to something like that. "Oh."

He shifted again, coughing awkwardly. "Yeah. I—well, Lion and Bear were pestering me, since…you dumped a lot of shit last night, and I haven't really…you know. Done that, like them." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking completely out of his element. I would have laughed if I didn't think it would disturb the moment. "Elliot was…my friend in high school, my roommate in uni, then my unitmate. Losing him wasn't easy."

"Oh," I said again, quietly. That made…a lot of sense. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged, waving a hand. "Yeah. Anyways. I'll go find the doctor. You should consider taking them even though they suck for a while; I've adjusted. They're lowering my dosage every few months." He stood to go.

After a second, I nodded thoughtfully. "Um…thanks. For…telling me."

He grunted. "Yeah. Don't expect a bouquet of flowers or anything, but…yeah. We've got your back."

Without another word, he quickly left, and I let myself breathe a little laugh.

I'd been right. This wasn't so bad, after all.

…

Once visiting hours were back on, and all three of them could come in, I was a bit nervous the dynamic would be weird, but I needn't have worried. They were the same as always, talking and laughing about everything they could. Tiger seemed a little more comfortable, which was good, but he was tired. As far as I knew, he'd only dozed last night when he was with me.

Bear and Lion were happy that I was doing better, and Lion looked much more rested. Bear looked more alert, too, his hands having graduated from bandages to band-aids on the worst areas. I was grateful that they all continued to call me Jaguar, but the knowledge that they knew I was Alex was comforting, too.

I was asleep when they first came in, and I assumed Tiger told them what the doctor had said, though I couldn't be sure. I was grateful I didn't have to, and grateful they didn't mention it for a while.

"So," Lion said, tapping my shoulder with his foot, which was propped by my side. They had a habit of doing that, and it was getting bloody annoying. "This is probably a given, but did you dye your hair to help change your image? Because it's been killing us."

I blinked, not prepared for the quick turnaround. Well, that was expected, I supposed. If Hollis noticed, they probably did too. "Yeah. My natural hair is fair. It's the only thing I could…you know, easily change on a time crunch."

Lion nodded. "Makes sense. Yeah, it's fading, mate, you might want to re-dye it soon."

I touched it, pulling a strand down from my forehead to look at it. Yeah, it was more of a dark brown, now, instead of the black it'd been when I'd officially started the SAS. "That's what Hollis said. I suppose I'll pick some up before we go back to camp."

"Hollis mentioned it?" Tiger asked, eyes dark.

I paused, kicking myself. That was stupid, no need to rile them up anymore. "Um. Yeah, he mentioned it. Sorry, that was stupid. Guess I'm on more drugs than I thought."

"You don't have to apologize," Bear said with a smile. "We were just worried after everything, that's all."

Hesitantly, I nodded. "Right."

"Speaking of the antichrist," Lion said, readjusting his posture. "I went to Kiev for the debrief while you were still unconscious." Huh. That must've been why he was so tired for so long. That was seventeen hours both ways, easy. "They let me question him for a few minutes. I wanted to make sure that…that he hadn't done anything before we could get to you."

I swallowed as subtly as I could, looking up and away. Memories surfaced, and I did what I could to push them down, but I couldn't _focus_ between the pain meds, the exhaustion, the uncertainty—it was usually so easy to choke flashbacks and panic attacks down until I could get alone, or work through it, but now…God, I hated thinking of my time in that basement. I'd tried to keep my mind off of it, but—his stupid cocky grin, his hand around my throat, his lips by my ear whispering Sabina's death, the sepsis killing me, his threats—

"Breathe, Jaguar, breathe," Bear's voice said quickly, his voice surprising me. At his words, I took a shuddering breath, coughing once. I realized I actually _hadn't_ been breathing. His hand was tight on my shoulder, and he was glancing worriedly at the heart monitor. "There you go, mate, take it easy. It's alright."

"This happened before," Tiger said, sounding concerned. "When the doctor was talking to him."

"I'm…I'm okay," I said quickly, hand fisting the sheets as I closed my eyes, focusing on breathing. "I'm okay. It just…took me by surprise. It's usually easier to…to control everything…"

"You don't have to explain," Lion said quickly, looking worried. "I'm sorry. I should've warned you—that was stupid of me."

At that moment, a nurse came in hurriedly, glancing at the monitor. I supposed my heart rate had risen above the acceptable range, and she'd been alerted. "Je vsechno v poradku?" Well, I guessed no one had told her none of us spoke Czech. This would be fun.

After a beat of uneasy silence, only my heavy breaths audible, Tiger spoke. "Sprechen Sie Deutsch?"

The nurse blinked in recognition, responding in German, "Yes, I do. I'm sorry, I didn't know you didn't speak Czech." Oh. That made sense, I supposed, since the Czech Republic bordered Germany.

Tiger smiled amiably, which looked weird on him. "Thank you, it's okay. He was panicking a minute ago, but I think he's okay now."

"I came to give him something to calm down," she said, and I noticed belatedly the capped syringe in her hand as she moved towards my IV.

"No," I said quickly, recalibrating as she stopped. I wasn't fluent in German, but I knew a few words, and I'd translated enough to know she was trying to drug me up, and I wasn't having it. "Uh, nein. Nein, danke. Ich bin gut." (Uh, no. No, thank you. I'm good.)

She shook her head with a patient smile and continued towards my IV, uncapping the syringe. In German, she said, "It's alright, it's just going to calm you down. You can't be this worked up in your condition."

Before I could protest again, she was already depressing the plunger into the IV.

Well, shit.

For a few seconds, the heart monitor went crazy, a manifestation of my panic. Soon enough, though, the beeping slowed down, and I felt my coiled muscles relax on their own accord.

"_Shit_," I breathed, my filter gone. "Bloody _hate_ hospitals…"

The nurse said something in German to Tiger, but I was too fuzzy to decode the words. Tiger nodded, and she left.

"Son of a bitch," I said, blinking my eyes rapidly. The world was blurring the slightest bit, hard edges becoming fuzzy and bleeding into each other. "Don't let her do that again."

Despite the worry in his eyes, Lion snorted, and Bear patted my shoulder with a guilty smile. "Sorry, mate. What the doctor says is what goes."

I scoffed, blinking again. God, these _sucked_.

"Anyways," Lion said, relaxing again. "I know you're a little loopy, but are you okay to continue?"

I blinked, squinting as I tried to recall what we were talking about. "Oh. About Hollis. What about him?"

Lion shifted, his eyes falling slightly. "He told me about…what he said to you, in the cellar. What he told you. I'm sorry, but I told Bear and Tiger, and…we're really sorry about your sister, Jaguar. We didn't know."

Sister…? Oh. Sabina.

With a heavy breath, I looked at the ceiling, hoping to sink into the sheets and through the floor and to keep sinking. "S'okay. You didn't know." Oh, he'd just said that.

He nodded, face pinched in concern. "Still. It feels like I violated your privacy, and I wanted to apologize."

I could only shrug, wondering what to say. "I mean…it's fine. I didn't…I didn't know it was him until he told me. It's not like I was dealing with it the whole time."

That seemed to make him feel a bit better, because he relaxed slightly. "Well, nevertheless, I'm sorry I found out without you being ready."

I gave him a thumbs-up, shifting uncomfortably. Bloody hell, it felt like I'd been vaulted into the matrix.

"Anyways, two more things, and then we'll let you sleep," Lion said, smirking. "Looks like you need it."

I flipped him off. "They gave me LSD. They must have. That's what it bloody well feels like."

Tiger snorted, and Bear laughed, patting my shoulder with a grin. "You're so small, mate, they probably overestimated the dosage. It's a bit funny to watch, though."

"Ugh, screw you," I said, rubbing my eyes.

"Okay. First thing," Lion said, trying not to laugh, "Sergeant's granted us three months leave until you're mission-ready. With that in mind, you're coming to our apartment to stay until we go back to Brecon Beacons. Elliot's old room is empty."

I blinked, suddenly feeling a lot more sober. "I can't take his room. That's—I'm not gonna do that."

Tiger nudged me with his foot, and I looked at him, squinting a little to get him in focus. "Ell's not the kind of guy who would want his room preserved forever, or some shit. He'd want it to be used. And we've all agreed and you can't get anywhere by yourself, so there's really no use in arguing."

"Yep," Bear nodded seriously. "We're kidnapping you."

"Assholes," was my immediate response, but I was really grateful for that. For them, and for them being willing to do so much for me. "Fine. Um…thank you."

"How gracious," Lion said with a raised eyebrow. "Second thing. Sergeant made an announcement while we were gone; I haven't told you guys either, so listen up." Bear and Tiger looked more attentive after that, intrigued. "Due to the spectacular cluster that was the threat assessment for this mission, and pressure from the brass for a few other things, Sergeant's elected to put two units together for missions from now on. He did it alphabetically, I think."

"So who are we with?" Bear asked, and I could see him mentally counting the letters in his head.

"A and B, C and D…that would be…" Tiger said, counting silently.

Oh. Son of a bitch.

"I suppose K-Unit."

"Oh, I've heard they're a pretty good unit," Bear said, grinning. "Eagle's a good bloke, too. I met him at the range."

"Yep. So, they're coming over one day when we're back and settled," Lion said, looking at me. "Sergeant gave them a month of leave so we could get acclimated to each other, so they'll be around a good bit, once you're a little stronger. They have an apartment not too far from ours."

I resisted the urge to laugh, shoving it down, instead turning my eyes to the ceiling. "Bloody brilliant."

Ignoring their looks of confusion and their questions, I closed my eyes.

I was well and thoroughly _screwed_.

**A/N: HA. I did a thing. The moment we've allllllll been waiting for!**

**Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter! And…wow. Omg. The support and amazingly positive response I got last chapter was ****_incredible_****. Thank you all SO MUCH for your amazing support and comments…they literally made me so incredibly happy, and I can never thank you enough for supporting me as much as you do! Real talk, I'm kind of an insecure writer, so your support is literally everything. Thank you all so very much! **

**Also, update: I think what I'm going to do is have all my content under this story, but like…divide it within this story. I have three stories planned, so…it's going to be *cough cough* ****_very_**** long. The story titles so far are ****_There's No Place Like Home_****, ****_Monsters_**** (inspired by ****_Monsters_**** by Shinedown [give it a listen, it's really good!]) and ****_Back from the Dead_**** (which may change). **

**As always, to all those following and favoriting, you're AMAZING and I LOVE YOU. To all my reviewers (omg last chapter was amazing) I adore you all and can never repay you: Dani9513, Em0Wolf, sakshi06, Night Riders, Aimael, Asilrettor, Guest, ProcrastinationAndCoffee, Procrastination Is My Game, .Take, SlothChann, Axixa, LoveRider, britt299919, Eriethwen, Riderkitty, Guest, NeleWW, KittyBlack62632, Aism de Plume, Ichigo 1217, otterpineapple06, Autumnbreeze08, Bumbee, DymphiStiles, reginamare, Whisperponyx, Johanna, chelanfish1, and VINAI!**

**Em0Wolf: omg you're so sweet thank you! I'm so glad you think so and that you enjoyed the chapter!**

**Guest (I thought this chaoter was brilliant): Thank you so so much! Also, yeah I think that's what I'm going to do; thanks for the feedback! **

**Love Rider: Thank you! I'm so glad you thought so, because that was the main goal. Alex is a real person with a lot of trauma X'D**

**Guest (Gracias amigo): De nada! Gracias por leer y revisar!**

**Reginamare: Thank so much, I'm so glad you thought so! And OMG I KNOW they're my BABIES. Okay, thanks so much for the Hollis comment! I find a lot of villains in a lot of stories, not just fanfics, kind of unrealistic, so I tried to make him…evil ****_and_**** human, if that makes sense. Hahaha thank you so much for reading and commenting!**

**Reader: don't worry, lots more to come! ;)**

**Johanna: Vielen Dank! Okay, ich bin so froh, dass du dachtest, dass alles gut gelaufen ist! Ich WISST Löwe ist buchstäblich erstaunlich und Tiger ist ein großer Ball von Flaum. Ich weiß auch, was du über Tiger meinst, aber ich denke, er hat nur versucht, sich ein wenig mehr zu öffnen, da er sich wirklich um Alex kümmert, er ist einfach schlecht darin, es zu zeigen. Völlig verständlicher Kommentar, aber! XD. Wie auch immer, ich weiß, dass Bear der süßeste Junge ist. Vielen Dank für die wunderbare Bewertung!**

**Thanks so much for all your support, and next chapter I think will be the discharge and one more important topic (and if I have time, I may be the getting settled in the apartment, but we'll see). Thanks! **


	15. Chapter 14

"Continue?" The nurse asked in accented English, holding my forearm. It was shaking in her grip, mainly because it was my main source of support. I had another nurse on my other side, holding my waist; my legs shook beneath me, and the last time I'd felt this weak and useless, I'd been shot in the chest.

It bothered me that I could be this weak after just a cut on the arm.

"Yes," I breathed, taking a shaking breath as I continued down the hall, barely able to move my feet between them. I shuffled in the damn slippers they'd given me, glad I'd convinced the guys to go get dinner somewhere other than the hospital cafeteria.

It had taken a lot of logical arguments and some raised voices, immediately warranting a decisive admonishment from the nurse on duty, but they'd finally relented. They hadn't left together in the week that I'd been here, and they needed some fresh air.

And I wasn't entirely comfortable with them watching me struggle my way down the hallway, so the privacy was an added bonus.

I'd actually been doing quite well, all things considered. I'd managed to walk somewhat normally, leaning against the wall for support, for almost six or seven minutes. It felt good to walk around, so despite the nurses' insistence that I stop and rest, I continued on.

And now I knew exactly why they'd asked me to slow down, because I was _spent_.

I'd requested to walk back to my room instead of be pushed in a wheelchair, but the few dozen meters left down the bright hallway seemed like an eternity. Somehow, with the nurses heaving me the last few steps, I made it, collapsing back into the bed with a contented sigh. One of the nurses left immediately, but one stayed to help me get situated.

The nurse said something in German as she reattached my IV and heart monitor with a scowl. I recognized "boy" and "stupid," so I filled in the blanks.

"Sorry," I breathed, blushing a little. I'd overextended myself a bit, and she knew it.

She rolled her eyes and patted my shoulder, leaving the room with a belated farewell to finish her rounds.

I fell back against the pillows, closing my eyes. I more than appreciated my unit's constant presence, but the silence was nice, too. It was nice to just…have a moment alone to process the last few days.

I opened my eyes, blinking heavily at the ceiling. I'd gotten some strength back, but if my adventure in the halls had proved anything, it was that I was nowhere near healed. I was reluctantly glad I'd have them to help. That was going to be…difficult to swallow, but I didn't have another option.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. One of the nurses had helped me take a bath two days ago (which had been thoroughly embarrassing, but necessary) and I felt a lot better now that I was clean. I'd also been eating more solid food, which was wonderful after a long while of pudding and soup. I was healing, and I knew it. It was just…a slow process.

There had been a noticeable change in the atmosphere around my unit after I'd opened up to them. The knowledge that I still had a lot of secrets was present, and heavy, but not nearly as unbearable as before. Tiger was a lot nicer. Not noticeably, but…there were no more thinly-veiled comments of real contempt, or dirty looks behind the others' backs. He treated me like more of an equal, and like a friend.

Hearing more about Elliot had helped me understand him, too. At first, I'd thought he was just a standard jackass—I was too wrapped up in my own trauma to recognize that other people had baggage too, and he'd unequivocally corrected me on that. If some punk kid (me) swooped in and tried to take my recently-deceased best friend's spot in my life, I'd hate them too.

Nevertheless, he was warming up to me, for which I was glad. He was actually funny when he wanted to be, which was a nice change of pace.

Lion was great, as usual. It was kind of frustrating how good a guy he seemed to be—all my shortcomings felt amplified when I considered him. He was constantly keeping an eye on me and my health without being too far in my space, and he'd even gone out of his way to pick up a box of hair dye without my asking. He was a little less guarded, too, since my confessions.

Despite that, I was a bit worried about Bear. He was by far the most open of the bunch, but I had a feeling he'd been holding something back over the past few days. Something important. He'd been with me a lot of the time in the cellar, so perhaps he could help me fill in some blanks—a lot of my time there was spotty at best. I remembered the important bits—Hollis' visits, the zipper incident, Bear's escape, in a mismatched order. The rest was blurred and jumbled, mere flashes of images that could have been a dream, for all I knew.

He knew what else had happened, and something about it seemed to be making him uncomfortable. I saw it in the way he sent me concerned glances when he thought I wasn't looking, and the way he insisted on staying with me most of the time, even when one of the others were there as well.

I sighed, shaking my head in thought. I'd ask him about it. I had no desire to relive my experiences, or to make him relive his, but I wanted to know what was freaking him out so much.

And then there was…the problem of K-Unit.

I resisted the urge to smother myself with my pillow, groaning in frustration as I thought about my impending doom. This was going to be really hard to lie my way out of, and I wasn't sure I'd be able to.

Eagle and Snake, I wasn't worried about. Snake and I had actually had half of a conversation, and he hadn't recognized me. To that end, unless Eagle had a weirdly impeccable memory, he wouldn't recognize me either. Fox had transferred to MI6, but he'd seemed sort of disillusioned after our escapade with Major Yu. I'd just have to hope he hadn't come back.

Unless Fox had actually come back, Wolf was going to be the main problem. He'd been with me at Point Blanc, but I couldn't remember if he'd ever been told my actual age. I'd always looked a little older than I actual was, so I had that going for me. He knew about MI6, though. And I doubted he wouldn't recognize me. It would be unrealistic to think he wouldn't. Fox would _absolutely_ recognize me, and that was going to be a huge problem.

Shit. I didn't know how, of _all_ the SAS units at Brecon Beacons…

Dr. Dominik startled me from my thoughts when he walked in, knocking twice. "Good morning, Alex. How you feel today?"

Dr. Dominik was the doctor on duty when Dr. Svoboda was off work, so I'd been seeing a lot of the both of them. I liked Dr. Svoboda a little better, just because I'd seen him first, but Dr. Dominik seemed nice, too. Dr. Svoboda's English was much better, though. My heart skipped a beat when I realized I was alone with him, but he hadn't given me any reason to suspect him. I'd keep alert, but I was sure I was alright.

"Good," I said, adjusting myself against the pillows as he came closer. "Tired."

"Yes, the nurses told me of your walk," he said with a patient smile. "Too much?"

I breathed a laugh, watching him inspect the monitors. "A little. It was nice to walk around, though."

He nodded, scribbling something on the chart. "You are healing well. You can be released…tomorrow? Sound good?"

"Sounds awesome," I admitted, nodding. Dr. Svoboda had said I was nearing the end of my stay, but tomorrow was better than I'd hoped for. "What time tomorrow?"

Dr. Dominik shrugged, sitting down on the stool beside my bed. "Early afternoon? Dr. Svoboda would like to check you before you leave." That was nice of him. It made me feel better, too. "First, I have one more important thing to talk to you about. Okay?"

Well, I'd had just about enough of important talks in this damn hospital bed, but I nodded, sitting myself up with my right arm. My left was still confined to the sling. "Okay."

Dr. Dominik nodded, flipping a couple pages on his chart and scanning something before continuing. Dr. Dominik wasn't nearly as expressive as Dr. Svoboda, so it was kind of difficult to guess his motives or thoughts. I waited anxiously, wondering what of my personal life we'd failed to dredge up already.

"Your shot wound," Dr. Dominik said, clarifying by tapping the space above his heart. Ah. My bullet wound. "It hurts?"

Confused, a little wary, I shrugged. "Not right now. Sometimes when I exert myself, or push myself too hard it aches."

He nodded, rifling through his papers for one of my prescription forms. "No physical therapy for it?"

I looked away, shrugging again. My arm twinged a little, the cut pulling from the action, but it was manageable. "No. I didn't have time." I fervently hoped he wouldn't ask any more questions about the circumstances, absently wishing someone from my team was here to warn him off the subject.

Fortunately, someone powerful seemed to be listening, because loud voices sounded in the hall outside my room at that moment, preceding the bang of the door. "Hope you're decent," Bear yelled, not bothering to wait for a reply before beelining to the recliner. I couldn't remember how many times the three of them had fought over that damn thing in the last few days. "Hey, Doc."

Dr. Dominik smiled in greeting as Lion and Bear filed in behind him, a takeout bag in Tiger's hand. "Hello. How are you?"

"Good, now that we've had some real food," Lion said, swatting the back of Bear's head as he resigned himself to one of the plastic folding chairs in the room. "Jag, we brought you spaghetti? Seemed safe enough."

I hadn't had spaghetti in ages—that sounded bloody amazing. "Brilliant, thanks."

Tiger put the bag on the end of the bed and sat, glancing at Dr. Dominik. "What're we talking about?"

I shifted, fidgeting, and shrugged. I was going to say something noncommittal and hope that Dr. Dominik would pick up on my social cues, but apparently British social cues didn't translate very well in the Czech Republic.

"His shot wound," Dr. Dominik said before I could butt in, and I pinched the bridge of my nose. "No physical therapy."

"Would you just like my family tree and birth certificate at this point?" I grumbled, pushing my hair back from my face. "Perhaps I can scrounge up my great-grandfather's pension notice somewhere."

Despite the bitterness in my words, Dr. Dominik looked unconcerned, flipping through his chart again. "I add it to the plan for your arm. Need therapy for surrounding muscle."

"Are you serious?" Tiger asked, his eyebrows pinched together. "You've never had any physical therapy for a bullet wound that bad?"

"…no?"

"Do you just…like making bad decisions, or something?" Bear asked, eyebrows raised. "That's downright dangerous, mate. That's not something you can just skip."

"I didn't just…skip it because I wanted to," I defended, looking away as a blush colored my neck. "I didn't…nobody told me I needed it. I had to leave the hospital before I was ready for it, and the doctor didn't mention it before that. After that I was…you know. Busy."

It was hard to miss the pointed looks from my unit, or the confused glance from Dr. Dominik, but he just sighed. "Alright. How long ago it happened?"

I had to think about it, pausing to retrace my steps. It felt like…like decades ago, with everything that had happened. Since then, I'd lost…Jack, then Sabina, then myself…it felt like it had happened to someone else. "I think…a little over a year ago." Huh. That was…a lot closer than I thought.

"And you're sure it's not causing you any discomfort?" Lion asked dubiously, glancing at the doctor. "Wouldn't it be painful from exertion without any therapy?"

"It aches sometimes," I admitted, shrugging again. "But it doesn't interfere with me doing what I need to. If it gets really bad, I just take some of the prescription painkiller until it goes away."

The doctor sighed through his nose, and if I didn't know better, I'd think he was completely done with me and my bull. "Fine. I add to arm regimen. Rest."

I gave him a thumbs up as he left.

"Eat," Tiger said, dropping the plastic takeaway container into my lap. "And explain."

"Explain what?" Damn, this smelled so good. I pried off the lid with clumsy fingers, excited to eat real actual food.

"Well, the bullet wound would be nice," Lion said, his usual expression of concern out in full force. "I was under the impression that it was fully healed."

I paused, chewing methodically. This was some good spaghetti. I was kind of reluctant to let the conversation spoil it, but…they were worried, I supposed. I could at least reassure them. "It is for the most part. It didn't…heal properly, so it's taken a bit longer, and…I never had time for physical therapy. I was in the hospital for several weeks, but something came up."

"What just _comes up_ when you're in the hospital for a bullet to the chest?" Bear asked incredulously, propping his feet up against the side of my bed. "I feel like that kind of takes priority."

I shrugged, taking another bite. I couldn't very well tell them it was MI6's fault, since I'd actually catalyzed the _Ark Angel_ mission myself. "Kind of getting into no man's land."

Lion sighed, tousling his hair. "Fine. At least…how'd you get it?"

I paused, stilling for a moment. "How'd I get the bullet wound?"

Lion nodded, Tiger and Bear looking equally invested. I fidgeted, somewhat annoyed. Could they not leave me alone for ten seconds without asking something I didn't want to answer? Seriously. I felt like I was drowning in all the secrets and the lies.

On the other hand, though…I supposed they deserved to know that much. It wasn't…incriminating, or anything.

"Sniper," I said quietly, rubbing the aching scar tissue on instinct. "Waiting for me while I was crossing the street. I was steeping off the sidewalk as he shot, and…the couple centimeters of concrete saved my life. I think…can I stop now?"

I'd felt myself drain of color the second I'd started talking about it, my breathing picking up despite myself. I could deal with the scar, I could deal with the aches, but…the second I thought back to the moment it happened, the utter confusion of falling and seeing my blood roll onto the sidewalk, ghosted figures of my parents leaning over me…I couldn't do it.

"Of course, yeah," Lion said quickly, grabbing my shoulder when I didn't look at him. "Hey. Calm down. I'm sorry. Everything's fine, Alex."

I jolted when he called me Alex, blinking myself back into reality. "Yeah, I'm…I'm good."

"Do you normally get this many panic attacks?" Tiger asked, crossing him arms.

I flinched, about to deny the thought before I remembered this was the third time they'd seen it happen. Shit, I felt like a little kid. It was everything I could do to keep my annoyance tamped down. After all, it wasn't their fault. "They're usually…easier to control. It's just, with, uh…with the drugs, and the exhaustion…it's harder to keep everything in check."

Lion, still concerned, patted my shoulder and leaned back. "Okay. Well…let's stop for now, okay? Eat. We wanted to talk to you about the apartment, anyways."

"We were thinking Toy Story-themed," Bear said with a grin, leaning back finally. "Maybe some Buzz Lightyear covers, some matching wallpaper…"

"Jackass," I mumbled through my spaghetti, but the stupid comment calmed me down some. "I'd peg you more for a Frozen theme, you think so?"

Lion laughed, throwing in his own two cents, and soon we'd devolved into a stupid conversation about nothing. It was exhausting to talk so much, especially after my escapade in the hallway, but…it was nice, too. It had been awhile since I'd just let myself laugh without worrying about anything.

K-Unit was still weighing on me, but…I had some time to figure something out. I could let myself enjoy today.

It would be okay to…not worry every once in a while. To just…let myself be.

It felt pretty good.

…

"Ready to get out of here?" Dr. Svoboda asked with a smirk, unwrapping the blood pressure cuff from my right arm.

"Born ready," I said with a smile, sitting on the edge of the bed. One of the male nurses had helped me change into some clean cargo pants and a t-shirt, my newly-washed windbreaker on my right arm and draped over my left shoulder. My arm was still in the sling to help it heal up, but they'd let me do some light lifting exercises yesterday evening. That had been humbling.

Bear and Tiger were waiting by the door to my room, my bag slung over Tiger's shoulder. Lion was signing my discharge papers and working out the billing with the accountants, since it was, after all, on the SAS' dime. That was a bloody awesome perk, one that I wasn't sure if MI6 had provided until I got shot.

"I'm sure," he laughed. "I know we've gone over everything, but one more time. No strenuous exercise until you're cleared with your physician, and keep up with your exercises every day. I know Tiger said you didn't want them, but I'm filling some prescriptions for your other conditions, and I want you to at least try them."

I didn't say anything, so I didn't technically lie. I'd probably throw them out as soon as we got to the apartment.

"I know you're prone to nightmares, but the sleep aid should help with that, especially during recovery. Your body _has_ to rest if you want to recover from this, so at the very least, try that, alright?"

Hesitantly, I nodded, not letting myself glance at Tiger and Bear. I supposed they'd hear it eventually. "Alright."

Dr. Svoboda smiled, patting my knee. "Well, you're as good as you'll get, here. I'm impressed. Take care of him, understand?" Bear nodded with a smile, and Tiger gave a grunt that might have been an affirmative. He turned back to me and smiled, shaking my hand. "Been a pleasure, Jaguar."

I smiled. "Thanks for everything."

With a nod and a final farewell, Dr. Svoboda left. Damn. I liked him. I would actually miss him.

"Ready?" Bear asked, approaching with a wheelchair. "Got your throne."

I'd fought tooth and nail about having to ride out in one, but the doctor had unequivocally said that if I didn't leave in the wheelchair, I wasn't leaving period, and that had been enough to convince me. Reluctantly, I eased myself off the bed and into the chair, settling down. "Yeah."

We met up with Lion at the desk, where I signed the final release papers (because I was technically nineteen and had to do that, which felt odd). Lion said that the SAS had rented a van as far as the Vaclav Havel Airport in Prague, and from there we'd fly coach to London. A driver would be waiting at the airport to take us to their apartment, where our belongings would be shipped for leave.

I was excited to get back to the familiarity of England, but I knew that meant a boatload of other challenges, as well. Some more pressing than others.

I insisted on getting into the van myself, which earned a couple dubious looks from the others, but I managed through sheer willpower and pride. I sank back into the seat, winded.

"Woulda been easier if we'd helped," Lion admonished, taking the passenger seat. Bear slipped into the backseat beside me, and Tiger got into the driver's seat, thanking the concierge who'd picked up the car.

"Yeah, but…you didn't," I argued, getting my breath back under control. "And it was fine."

"Mm-hm," he agreed quietly, still looking unconvinced.

I sighed quietly, closing my eyes and leaning my head back. "Let me have this before we get back and you won't let me do anything."

Bear patted my shoulder sympathetically. "Sure thing, mate. You hold onto those two elevated feet like it's a lifeline."

I flipped him off, but I couldn't stop the inevitable smile.

…

Bear _really_ didn't like planes.

Boarding had been somewhat of an adventure, what with my wheelchair. Since I could technically move around fine, I'd tried to argue that with a bit of help, I could walk to my seat and they could fold up the wheelchair and put it in storage, but Lion wasn't having it. At least it gave me priority boarding.

They ended up wheeling me down the narrow aisle and transferring me to the window seat with a lot of wobbling and cursing before I was finally settled, after which Lion went back to help with the luggage. I tapped the armrest nervously until people started actually boarding the plane, Damian Cray and the crashing jet (and subsequently Sabina) filling my mind.

Luckily, I didn't have to wait long for the others to board. Bear slipped in beside me, looking a little sweaty, and Tiger and Lion slipped into the seats in front of us. "Doing okay?" Tiger asked, peering around the seat.

I genuinely didn't know which one of us he was asking, so I glanced at Bear. "Doing great," he said with a thumbs up. "Just…like I said. Flying tin can of death."

I snorted, looking away as the flight attendants got up to demonstrate the safety precautions, feeling kind of tired. It was only a two hour flight, so I supposed trying to sleep would be futile. And the last thing I wanted was to have a nightmare on a crowded plane.

"You okay?" I asked quietly as Bear gripped the armrests when the plane started taxiing a few minutes later. "You know you're more likely to die in a car crash than a plane crash. We drove here, the hard part's over."

Bear chuckled, but it sounded forced. "Yeah. Hard part's over. Lucky us."

I sighed, noticing that Lion and Tiger were keeping an eye on us even as they talked to each other. I guessed they were worried.

"Oi," I said, elbowing Bear as much as I could with the sling still on my arm. "Listen."

Bear turned to look at me, relaxing a little as he did so. Ah. So that was it. Distractions would help him.

"Concentrate," I said, leaning over a bit so I could see into the aisle. "Tell me five things you can hear."

Bear blinked, looking a little nervous. "Is this…a game?"

"No, it's an exercise," I corrected, feeling him flinch beside me as the plane lurched when we stopped at the head of the runway. "Tell me five things you can hear, and they all have to be different sounds. It's not hard, it's bloody loud in here."

Bear obliged, closing his eyes. His hands were still clenched tightly around the armrests. "Um…I guess…the engine, a baby crying, someone talking…someone's game console, and…someone's music."

"Good," I said, leaning my head back. This exercise helped me a lot when I needed to calm down quickly, so I hoped it worked with Bear. "Four things you can see. They all have to be different colors."

Bear opened his eyes, flinching again as the plane started to accelerate, but looking more grounded than before. "Um…the chairs, the baby's blanket, Lion's shirt, and a girl's bracelet."

"That was too easy," I said, hoping it would distract him long enough for the plane to get into the air. We were moving pretty quickly, now, so it would be up any minute. "Do it again. Different things."

By them time we were cruising in the air, somewhat level, we'd worked our way down to the taste, which was one thing.

Bear made a face, looking much calmer than before. "Onions."

"Nasty, but I'll let you have it," I conceded. "And we're flying, and we're alive."

Bear bumped into my shoulder, leaning past me to look out the window. I shifted, a little uncomfortable, but it was manageable. "Damn," he breathed as we passed through a cloud. "Okay. Fine. This isn't…so horrible."

"Taking off is the worst part," I said, shivering as I thought back to Cray and Air Force One. I looked out the window absently, trying to ground myself a little. "Crash-landing sucks, but if you do it right and you're lucky, it's not as deadly as people think it is."

Bear didn't respond, and I glanced at him, worried he was panicking again, but he was just staring at me. "What?" I asked, noticing Lion and Tiger had turned around, too.

"Were you in a plane that crash-landed?" Tiger asked, eyebrow raised. "Because that's what that sounded like."

I cringed a little, realizing that yes, I…had let that slip. "Oh. Um…yeah. But I'm fine."

Bear shook his head, folding his hands behind his neck. "I swear. I'm going to need you to catalogue all your near death experiences one day. Nobody just…randomly has so many of them."

I shrugged, looking away. "No man's land, Bear."

Bear sighed. "Fine, fine. Whatever. Thanks for helping me calm down."

We eased back into silence. I shouldn't have said anything about the plane, but it had just slipped out when I'd been trying to calm Bear down. I blamed it on the lingering effects of the drugs, hoping that when I was fully detoxed, I'd be a little better about my brain-to-mouth communication filters.

Half an hour later, Tiger was snoring in front of us, and a glance confirmed that Lion had his headphones in, eyes closed. Damn. I missed listening to music. I'd had to ditch my cell phone, and I didn't want to waste any money on an iPod or something similar when I'd been underground. Bear was awake and fidgety, listening to music, but he looked okay. I figured now was a good opportunity to ask him why he was being weird.

"Bear," I said, elbowing him again. I should stop doing that; my arm ached a little. "Oi."

Bear started, glancing at me and popping his earbuds out. "What?"

"Do you have a minute?"

He shrugged, wrapping his headphones around his phone. "Sure. What's up?"

I shifted, thinking about how I wanted to phrase the question. "Well…could you…tell me what happened, in the cellar? I remember a lot of after you escaped, but…not much from before. And you've been giving me weird looks, so…if something happened, I'd like to know. If…you're okay with talking about it."

Bear watched me while I spoke, his face closing off a bit more the longer I talked. He turned away a little, not answering immediately, and I wondered if it was too soon.

"Well…what do you remember?" He asked, shifting.

I shrugged noncommittally, unwilling to let the memories come back in full force. I wasn't ready for that, not…not yet. "Bits and pieces. I slept a lot, I think…you spent most of the time digging, and…I remember Elliot." I glanced at him, but he didn't react to that. "Other than that…it's just kind of a blur."

Bear nodded, getting a little more comfortable in his seat. "You woke up a couple times. Once when Hollis came to taunt us with water. Do you remember that?"

I glanced up, eyebrows coming together as I thought. "Um…maybe? He asked…what I'd trade?" Phantom fingers ghosted up my tingling spine, but I ignored it, shifting to hide the flinch.

"Yeah," Bear said, his eyes dark. He looked angry. "Yeah, that was one time. Another time…I think you were hallucinating. You called me Rahim."

I froze, the familiar name sending panic through my veins. _Shit._ Bloody _hell_. What else had I let slip?

"What else did I say?" I asked, trying to make the question sound natural. My voice was tight. He must have heard it; there was no way he'd miss the change.

Bear shrugged, scratching his ear. "Um…something about McCain? He was trying to poison a lot of people? You thought we were in India, and you…asked why MI6 would have you escort a prisoner." He glanced at me, and I kept my face carefully blank, sitting on my hand to keep it from shaking. "I supposed you were mixing up agencies, or something, but…is there something else?"

I looked away, out the window, and tried to keep the panic off my face. "Nah. Guess I was just confused." I'd sooner give them my life story before my uncle died than tell them anything about MI6. There wouldn't be any coming back from that, whether they believed me or not.

Bear looked at me a second longer, not looking entirely convinced, but acquiesced, nodding. "Alright. Well…I suppose if I've been giving you weird looks, it's because I was confused about everything you said, and…worried. To be honest, mate, I've never seen someone deteriorate so much so fast, and…it wasn't easy to watch."

"Sorry," I said needlessly, trying to make the small condolence sound genuine. "I'm really okay now. Besides, you're probably the only reason I made it out of there."

"I should be the one saying that," he said, finally smiling a little. That was better; looked more like the regular Bear. "You and your double-oh-seven secrets."

I laughed, leaning back towards the window. "Sure. I'm a regular Bond."

Bear chuckled, and after a second of silence, replaced his headphones. I opted to watch the clouds pass in silence, tracing the miniature highways below and the toy cars and houses, reminding me of a Monopoly board.

I hadn't thought I'd sleep, but the quiet chatter in the background and the rhythmic pulsing of the engine reminded me that I was still recovering, and sleep, right now, was a needed friend. I figured I wouldn't sleep long enough for a nightmare, anyways—we only had a little over an hour until we landed. It would be okay to risk it.

Cautiously, I let my eyes close, settling my head against the window. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but it would do.

After a couple minutes of shifting, trying to get comfortable in the pressurized cabin, I finally fell asleep.

**A/N: So, my excuse for taking so long is that I um discovered CRIMINAL MINDS which I'd never seen before and um yeah I'm obsessed. I binge watched over seven seasons in two weeks.**

**Anyways, hope you liked this chapter! Sorry I didn't get to the apartment, but I thought this was a good place to cut it.**

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	16. Chapter 15

"Here she is," Bear said, swinging the door open and kicking one of the bags in with his foot, his shoulders laden with additional luggage. "Home sweet home."

I peered into the flat, entering the dim foyer carefully. I steadied myself on the wall, feeling tired, but still alright to move around. The foyer fed immediately into a living room, holding two armchairs and a burgundy couch (**A/N:** **settee? I'm sorry I'm very American)**, as well as a tellie and a glass center table with a wilting plant.

To the left was a compact kitchen, a stove and dishwasher nestled closely together. The counter space was half-occupied by a toaster oven and a blender, and there was a closed pantry on the right, by the main hallway.

Back in the hallway were several doors, which I assumed were the bedrooms and bathrooms. I was impressed by the compact flat's ability to appear spacious despite the constraints.

I'd stayed in a lot of halfway houses and homeless shelters in America after I left the Pleasures, until I could secure a plane ticket and an invitation to SAS Selection. There was little privacy, a constant fear of being stolen from, and more stress than I was comfortable with handling. I dearly missed my home in Chelsea, and the knowledge that it wasn't more than an hour was kind of insulting, but…the homey touches evident throughout this little flat made me, once again, overwhelmingly grateful that I was being welcomed.

"It's nice," I admitted with a smile, catching sight of a picture on one of the end tables. It was Lion, Bear, and Tiger, and who I assumed was Elliot. Elliot was Asian like Tiger, with fair skin and dark hair, laughing. They were at a festival of some kind. It reminded me of the St. Patrick's Day picture of me and the Pleasures. "Homey."

I shuffled slowly out of the doorway and into the living room, Tiger and Lion following behind, laden with the luggage that had been dropped off at the front desk of the building from Brecon Beacons. "Are you sure I can't do anything…?"

"You can barely carry yourself," Bear said decisively, pointing at the couch. "Sit down."

I rolled my eyes, lowering myself gingerly onto the couch. My arm, still in the sling, ached a little, but I could tell it was feeling a lot better.

Lion dropped a plastic bag full of pill bottles beside me, handing me a glass filled with tap water. "May want to sort through those and figure out when you take what. He gave you a pharmacy."

"Thanks." I opened the bag (which was an adventure with my restrained arm, but I managed) and dumped the bottles onto the couch beside me, reading the labels.

Rexulti for depression. Xanax for anxiety. Ambien for sleeping. Amoxicillin for antibiotics. Clotrimazole antifungal cream for the cut itself.

I heaved a sigh. Obviously Dr. Svoboda had ignored my request not to fill most of these, and knowing the others, they'd want me to take them.

I was supposed to take the Rexulti and Xanax with dinner every night, and the Ambien half an hour before I went to bed. The antibiotics would be twice a day, morning and night, for the next ten days, and the cream was to go on every morning for as long as I needed it.

I glanced behind me towards the chaos, where Lion and Bear were ransacking the kitchen for surviving food and Tiger was dragging his luggage to his room. Maybe I could flush the first three prescriptions without them noticing.

I yawned, feeling jetlagged, and glanced out the window at the rising morning. Between the driving, the flight, and the driving again, we'd spent all night traveling, and I could feel myself fading.

"Want to go lay down?" Tiger asked behind me, and I jumped at his sudden appearance, glancing up at him. "You look tired."

I shrugged, gathering the bottles and trying to shove them back in the bag. "I think so. Are—"

I paused, clearing my throat. Tiger looked at me, raising an eyebrow in question. "Are you sure you want me to stay in Elliot's room? Because I really don't mind staying on the couch…"

Tiger paused after I spoke, taking a deep breath. He glanced into the kitchen, where Lion and Bear were still arguing about how long eggs stay fresh for (which was _not_ something I wanted to find out), and sat down.

"Look. I…" Tiger rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging. "I'm not going to lie to you. I'm not going to be entirely comfortable with it for a while. But that's not because I don't want you here, or anything…just that I'm still not…" He looked visibly uncomfortable, his neck reddening the longer he struggled to continue.

"Ell was my best friend, you know? I cleaned out all his stuff, but it still feels like…his. His room. So…you can stay there and I won't mind. It may just take me a little while to get used to it."

I hesitated, but nodded, smiling awkwardly. "Thanks."

In an uncharacteristic display of affection, Tiger took a play out of Lion's book and tousled my hair in passing. "Sure. Just don't trash the place, half-pint."

That was…a lot more sharing than I was used to from Tiger. Maybe he felt more comfortable because he was home, or something.

I decided to take his advice and go lie down, popping one of the antibiotics and downing the glass of lukewarm water, replacing all the prescriptions in the bag. I thought I was technically supposed to eat with it, but I wasn't very hungry.

Oh, right. They were probably going to start pestering me about food, too.

I sighed, resigning myself to three months of mother-henning.

I stopped by the kitchen entryway, clearing my throat to get Lion's and Bear's attention. "Um…which one…" Should I ask which one was mine? Which was Elliot's? Damn, this was confusing. "Which room should I go to?" There. That was safe.

"Second door on the left," Bear supplied, making a face as he threw what might have once been an onion into the rubbish can. "Bathroom is just across the hall. Can you make it alright?"

I nodded, raising a hand in farewell. "Yeah, thanks."

Tiger was in his room as I passed, steadying myself on the wall. From the glimpse I caught, he kept it fairly neat, with a couple personal touches. There were some framed pictures of who I assumed were his family and some friends, some with the unit, and a couple with him and Elliot.

He really liked the color red, as that seemed to be the theme, but it was done tastefully, at least.

Hesitantly, I stopped outside the next door, pushing the ajar door open and peering inside.

It felt…like an invasion of privacy, somewhat, but I knew I had to get over that eventually. The compact room was bare of personal touch, and the bed was made; the comforter and sheets were navy blue. A faux wood dresser was shoved against one wall, an indent in the wall beside it opening to reveal a tiny closet. There was also a nightstand that might have doubled as a small desk, holding a lamp and a digital alarm clock. Old, flattened carpet scuffed against my shoes as I stepped inside.

Feeling a little weak, I went to sit on the bed, kicking my trainers off as I sat down. There was a window on the other wall, letting a little bit of natural light in, though I could tell it hadn't been cleaned in some time. I glanced around, an alien feeling of normalcy blanketing the room.

It felt…weird to be here. It had been so long since I'd been somewhere with privacy. It reminded me more of my room in my Chelsea home than at the Pleasures'.

"Everything okay?" Lion asked, knocking twice. He came to lean against the door frame, raising an eyebrow in question. My bag was in his hand.

I glanced at him from the bed, shrugging. "Yeah. It's just been a while since I've had my own room," I admitted.

He glanced at me, and I could tell he was unwilling to ask, but curious to know. I sighed, glancing again at the window. As soon as I was stronger, I'd clean it. I liked natural light. "I stayed in homeless shelters and halfway houses for a while, after I…you know. Just been a while since I've had something private."

He nodded, smiling a little. "Well, I'm glad you're here, then."

I couldn't help but smile, too. He came in and dropped the bag on my bed, glancing around. "Do you have anything in storage anywhere that you need to pick up?"

"No," I admitted, unzipping my bag to throw the multitude of pills inside. "Just this."

Before Edward had adopted me, Mrs. Jones had said they'd do an estate sale with the property my from Chelsea house, and the money would be put with my other inheritance that they controlled. I highly doubted I'd ever see any of that money, but I honestly didn't have the energy to be angry about it anymore.

I supposed they'd done that, though I hadn't heard anything more on the subject. And I'd left most everything that I couldn't carry at the Pleasures', as well as what they'd bought me. It felt too much like stealing, after everything I'd put them through.

I was left with some clothes, a gun, a couple of my favorite books, the pictures I kept with me, and a small wad of bills. I'd have more money now that I was getting income from the SAS—the money was being placed in a dummy account routed through a Swiss account and back to London, courtesy of Smithers—so at least I could start saving for when I turned eighteen.

"By the way," Lion said, startling me from my thoughts. He looked pensive, fishing for something in his pockets. "We found this in your stuff; sorry, I completely forgot to give it to you at the hospital."

He handed me a familiar piece of crinkled photo paper, the edges lined up and sealed together with clear tape.

Sabina's familiar smile stared back at me, and it took longer than I would've liked to take it from him. "You fixed it?"

He shrugged, making his way back to the doorway. "Yeah. Wasn't difficult."

I didn't care if it was difficult or not. It was so good to have this back with me. "Thank you. Really."

He glanced at me, I suppose a little surprised with the sincerity in my voice, and gave me half a smile. "Sure thing, kid. Let me know if you need anything."

"Just…" I said before he could leave, shifting uncomfortably. Seeing Sabina's face reminded me of exactly what I was doing, and I was suddenly very uncomfortable with the thought of staying here. With them. "Are you _sure_ it's okay that I'm here?"

Lion's smile fell, and he looked disappointed again. "I thought we were getting past this."

"It's not that," I assured quickly. "I just…I told you. People are after me." I looked away, fidgeting. "I don't…I don't want you guys to become collateral damage, is all. I'm just trying to make sure you know that…that if they find me here—"

If MI6 found me here—well, their careers may very well be over, depending on their reaction. If SCORPIA found me here…

I didn't even want to consider the possibility.

"Quit that," Lion admonished, looking concerned, but no longer disappointed. "Sorry I doubted you. And yes, we're sure. We can take care of ourselves, you know. In fact, I think we've done protective detailing once or twice, so we know how to keep a look out."

"But I don't want you to—" I started, trying to argue that I didn't want them to disrupt their lifestyle or anything, but he quickly cut me off.

"We're not doing anything. Seriously. You're going to be fine here, Jag." He grabbed the door, throwing me a smile over his shoulder. "Get some sleep. You're safe." He closed the door on his way out, and I was left with just the pale morning light filtering through the dirty window.

If I was being honest, I knew that, while all my worries were valid, I was mostly scared of losing someone again. I wasn't so dense that I didn't realize I had severe abandonment issues after everything, but I'd thought…well, I'd mostly planned on not getting close to anyone until I was sure I was safe, whenever that was. Then I wouldn't have to worry about being abandoned. Or that they would be killed because of me.

I was fighting this so hard because I knew, even now, with a very fragile relationship of trust and respect and friendship, losing them would be more than I could take.

I lay back, carefully removing my sling and putting my bag on the ground, grabbing a folded blanket from the foot of the bed and spreading it over myself, not bothering to change.

I'd just have to make sure that never happened. No matter what it took.

…

I supposed I was more tired than I thought, because the sun was beginning to set when I woke again.

I stretched, minding my arm, and yawned heavily, sitting up. Muted chatter came from the living room. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, I supposed it was dinnertime. Something smelled good, anyways.

I felt refreshed, so walking to the front of the flat wasn't much of a challenge; I kept one hand trailing the wall just in case, but other than a bit of wobbling, I was alright. The other three were in the living room, eating what looked like Indian takeaway.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," Bear said through his curry. "How're you feeling?"

"Good," I admitted, searching through the cupboards for a glass, filling it with tap water from the sink. My hands were beginning to shake, but I was determined to finish the menial tasks without help. "Better now that I've slept."

"We didn't know what you wanted," Lion said, glancing at the spread covering the glass table. "We got a lot, though. You hungry?"

I shrugged, sitting down in the empty armchair with my water. "I could eat," I said noncommittally. It smelled good, anyways.

They weren't kidding. I was surprised the restaurant hadn't cut them off; it seemed like they'd ordered one of everything.

"It smells good," I voiced, grabbing an empty plate and loading it with a bit of everything, saving a big space for the biryani and a couple momos pieces. Ian had liked Indian food; we'd frequented a little place by our house in Chelsea often enough when he was home. I'd grown to enjoy the heavy spice after some dubious endeavors.

"We always eat from this place our first day back from assignment," Tiger said. "It's become something of a tradition."

I laughed under my breath. That sounded just like them.

"Do you need to take your meds?" Bear asked pointedly. "You need to take some with dinner, right?"

"Yeah, I'll take them after," I said, taking a bite of a momos. _Damn_, that was good. I'd probably only take the antibiotic, but he didn't need to know that.

"Lion, when's your sister coming to visit?" Tiger asked in a drastic topic shift, which piqued my interest.

I glanced up, a little pang of surprise giving way to nervousness. I hadn't considered that I might have to interact with their families, but I guessed it made sense. I couldn't very well expect them to ban everyone from their flat because I didn't like strangers.

Lion chewed and swallowed quickly, responding, "Sometime in the next week. She's bringing Jacob and Jonah, too."

"How old's the little terror now?" Bear asked with a grin.

Oh. A kid. I didn't do well with kids. At least, I hadn't yet, in my limited experience.

"Turning six in December. Abby says the terrible twos never tapered off," Lion laughed. He fished out his phone, scrolling through it for a few seconds before handing it to me. "That's my younger sister Angelica, her husband Jacob, and their son, Jonah."

I took the phone and glanced at the picture. They looked like a typical young family. Angelica was pretty, and looked a lot like Lion; she had the same light brown hair, but her eyes were brown while Lion's were a clear blue. She was tucked under the arm of an average man with pale green eyes and dark hair, a grin stretched across his face. In their arms was a little boy with fair hair like his mother and green eyes slightly darker than his father's.

"Nice," I said awkwardly, handing him back the phone. I didn't really know how he wanted me to react.

It didn't seem to bother him, though. "They're coming round next week to visit; they help take care of the place when we're all gone."

I nodded, giving an awkward half-smile. "Can't wait to meet them." Oh, that sounded painfully plastic. "I mean…"

Tiger snorted, and Bear didn't spare me any embarrassment, laughing in earnest. "Once more with feeling, Jag."

I blushed, taking a bite of curry to avoid answering.

Lion, again, didn't seem to mind, laughing at my response. "Don't worry; my sister's wonderful, and Jacob's a good bloke. Jonah can cause a fuss, though."

I nodded, half-smiling. Angelica looked nice, anyhow.

"Angie will like you," Lion said, stealing the last momos off Bear's plate, ignoring his indignant complaint. "She likes strays."

I stopped chewing long enough to flip him off, but I couldn't deny the jab.

"Are your parents flying in to visit?" Bear asked Tiger, who was nursing a beer. I'd never pegged beer as a good companion for Indian food, but Tiger seemed to be enjoying the eclectic combination.

"I think so, in a few weeks," he said, leaning back in the armchair and propping one of his feet on the edge of the table. "They said they'd fly in and then we'd all drive to _Jii-san_'s in Birmingham. _Oka-san _said she'd bring her mochi recipe again, since you ate so much last time." **(Oka-san is Japanese for Mom; Jii-san is Japanese for Grandfather). **

If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn that stars appeared in Bear's eyes. "I love your mom. I'm taking her."

Tiger laughed, and I couldn't help but smile a little. Tiger seemed much less threatening when he laughed. "I think my Dad might have a few things to say about that."

That was interesting. I recognized Tiger's use of traditional Japanese honorifics for his mom, but not his dad. He was probably half-Japanese, in that case.

"Is he still on business in Egypt?" Lion asked, scooching his plate carefully into a clear nook on the table before rising for the kitchen, presumably to refill his drink.

"Nah, he's back in Okita with _Oka-san_, now. She was angry with him for being away so often, so he put in for some extended vacation time."

This was beginning to make sense now. No wonder they'd been curious about my family and my background; they seemed really comfortable with sharing everything among themselves. I'd bet they expected me to be comfortable doing the same. I felt kind of bad that I couldn't pitch in with the conversation, but it was nice to learn more about them.

"We didn't have any of fall or Christmas off last year," Bear said to me, startling me from my thoughts. "Our families were a little miffed."

I gave him a smile, an unsolicited pang of loss thrumming in my chest. "I'm sure." I hesitated for a second, shifting uncomfortably. I supposed some harmless information wouldn't be too bad, since we were all talking about our families. Besides, if I gave some, maybe they wouldn't pester me for more. "I was always angry with my uncle when he missed a holiday, but I was usually over it by the time he got home."

Lion came in with a soda, sitting down in his spot as I finished speaking. It wasn't an earth-shattering revelation, or anything, but it made me feel a little better. I hadn't talked about my uncle since talking to Tom a couple years ago, and…well, I missed him. I missed talking about him.

The other three seemed to gather that it had been an intentional reveal, but thankfully, they didn't call me on it. "Your uncle raised you?" Bear asked.

"Mm-hm," I confirmed through a bite of curry, hoping to defer any further questions.

I couldn't talk about Jack, and I didn't want it to reach that point.

"What about you?" I asked Bear. "Are you going to see your holiday?"

"I'm gonna crash Tiger's reunion for a few days, since his mum is the best cook on the planet," he grinned, nudging his friend with his bare foot, earning a half-hearted scowl, "but then I'm going to Manchester to visit my dad."

"Nice," I said with a smile, actually meaning it this time. "Lion, are you going to go to your sister's?"

"That's the plan," he said, leaning back, his plate finally empty. Mine was dwindling, as well. I ate another momos. "Her husband's family is American, so we're all flying out for Thanksgiving. Do you want to come with me?"

The question startled me, and I looked up, my fork comically paused halfway to my mouth. "What?"

"Do you want to come with me, for Thanksgiving," he repeated, as if it was an obvious question. "My brother-in-law's family wouldn't mind. If you'd like to stay here, though, you're welcome to."

I paused, wondering just what I'd done to deserve a unit like them. That wasn't something people offered at random, and…I was honestly touched by the invitation.

I think it showed in my smile, which was genuine, for once. "That's really nice of you to offer, but…no, thanks. My, um…my parents and uncle are buried just outside London, and I haven't been able to visit them in a while. I figure by then, I'll be moving around more, so…I'd like to go there."

"No problem," Lion said, patting my shoulder with a smile as he took his plate to the kitchen. "Let me know if you change your mind."

I smiled down at my food, listening to Bear and Tiger discuss their football teams' preliminary statistics, the clank of dishes in the kitchen a reassuring cacophony of sound that I hadn't realized I'd missed.

Maybe the luck of the devil would last just a little bit longer.

…

_"__I shot your sister between the eyes," a rasping voice rumbled, a tinge of glee and a whisper of laughter turning the sound into a macabre declaration._

_I turned quickly, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice in the inky abyss. I looked down, and the blackness continued; what was I even standing on, then, if I was destined to see nothingness in every direction? Where was I?_

_Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone who might have been Sabina. I had just enough time to lay eyes on her, to see her smile for a split second, before her head disappeared in a blaze of red, her body following shortly._

_The laughter came again, rumbling like quiet thunder, and I turned again, faced with emptiness. I held my left bicep, trying to staunch the flow of blood, but it seemed to be the only thing in color in the whole world—a bright red swath in a sea of darkness. My body was pulsing in pain, but I pushed through it. I had to get out._

_ "__Why don't you keep me warm tonight?" The voice said again, the familiarity terrifying me as phantom hands ghosted over my skin. I twisted away from them, writhing and trying to run, but they followed me. They seemed to tear at my clothes, my hair—anything to keep me in place. _

_ "__Time to die, soldier boy," it said, and I whipped around, expecting more nothingness, but I didn't get it._

_Instead, I got Hollis, staring at me with two empty eye sockets and a bloody grin._

_I threw myself backwards as he reached for me, a scream tearing at my lips, but the world around me remained silent save for the madman's laughter, his fingers ghosting across my shoulder as I backpedaled._

_I turned and bolted, still clutching my burning arm, but my legs were weak and trembling, and the blackness kept stretching in front of me no matter how fast I moved._

_I tried to yell, but the words were stuck in my throat. I tried yelling for Ian, and Jack. I tried yelling for Sabina. The void remained silent._

_I threw a glance over my shoulder and shuddered to a halt, realizing that Hollis was gone._

_I stopped, panting, my knees trembling beneath me._

_ "__It's your fault."_

_The phantom voice was different, but unmistakable, and I whipped around just in time to see General Sarov raise a pistol to his head and fire, his anguished eyes never leaving mine as his expression was buried in a mist of blood._

_I shut my eyes, feeling the warm liquid hit my face and chest, stumbling back in horror as I tried not to think about it._

_I bumped into something behind me, but it wasn't phantom hands, anymore—it was solid. I turned again, my brain scrambling to stay lucid in the wash of terror, and looked up._

_ "__I didn't want to," Anthony Sean Howell said, haunted eyes contradicting a wide grin, a charred detonator in his hands. I stumbled back, my breath hitching in my chest as the fear threatened to drive me mad. Ash took low steps towards me, but as quickly as I backed up, the distance between us only lessened. _

_ "__You believe me, don't you, Alex?" He asked, his thumb hovering over the detonator, his dark eyes wide in agony even as he smiled. "I didn't want to kill them. They made me."_

_I choked on the vile words I longed to throw at him, but before I could, his image shifted. His skin darkened, his eyes lightened, and his hair greyed, worn spectacles appearing on his face. He was still holding a detonator, though._

_Abdul-Aziz al-Rahim smiled. "I wanted to." He nodded to something behind me, and reluctantly, I turned._

_I saw myself, but…I wasn't myself. After a brief moment of shock, I realized it was Julius, and he was now holding the detonator._

_He grinned a shark's grin and said, "I _really_ wanted to."_

_And pressed the button._

_Behind me, there was an explosion. I turned, a scream on my lips, and saw a burning car behind the fire, bright red hair almost blending in with the flames—_

_…_

I shot up in the foreign bed, a yell on my lips before I remembered I wasn't alone.

Feeling weak, my entire body shaking, I scrambled from the bed and tried to run to the loo, but my knees gave out halfway to my door. Despite the obstacle, I knew that if I didn't make it to the toilet in the next few seconds, I'd need to pay for the carpet to be cleaned or replaced.

I ended up having to crawl. I didn't think I'd ever felt more pathetic as I dragged myself quickly to the bathroom, throwing open the door and barely heaving myself in front of the toilet before my stomach revolted.

I heaved for a several seconds, acid and bile burning my throat as I sagged in front of the toilet, my body quivering. My arms barely had enough strength to hold me up.

I all but collapsed against the tub when I was finally finished, my stomach roiling at the memories of the inky abyss and Hollis, Ash and his stupid, pointless vendetta of jealousy, Sarov and his selfish notion of power, Razim and his—his _madness_—

I lurched back to the toilet, heaving, but there was nothing left to bring up.

Damn. There went my antibiotic from the night before.

I coughed when I was finally done, clumsily flushing the toilet and leaning my head against my arm, my core trembling as I tried to keep myself upright. The shakiness from the nightmare and the fatigue from the lingering sepsis were working in tandem to reduce me to this pathetic, shivering mess on the floor of someone else's bathroom.

I gave a pitiful whimper as another surge of nausea flipped my stomach, but there was nothing left to bring up. I took a shaking breath, squeezing my eyes shut as I hated myself for the traitor tears that slipped out.

When had I become this? When was the shift complete from a normal English boy who loved football and American music to…to _this_?

I wanted Jack. She was the only one I ever let see…_this_. This mess I was reduced to after reliving one of my many traumas. I wanted her soft hands and her quiet reassurances, her American lullabies and her constant presence.

I wanted Jack.

"Jaguar?" A voice thick with sleep sounded from the door, and I flinched in belated fear as the light flicked on, my eyes still squeezed firmly shut.

"M'fine," I mumbled quietly, my voice breaking in betrayal as I shivered, huddled on the floor.

"Shit, mate," he said again, and I realized it was Bear. His voice was sympathetic mix of pity and concern, and I felt even more pathetic at the tone. "You alright?"

"Mm-hm," I hummed, unwilling to open my eyes or raise my face. If I let go to wipe the tears away before he saw, I'd fall over, so I kept my face resolutely to the floor. "Sorry…go back—" I coughed again, my throat tingling as the acrid burn persisted. "Go back to bed."

"Jag, vomiting is a sign of sepsis relapse," Bear said calmly, putting a hand on my back. He sounded much more awake now. I felt him crouch next to me. "I need you to be honest. Is your arm burning, or hurting?"

I shook my head, the action dizzying. Bear grabbed my shoulders to steady me, cursing quietly. "No," I voiced, knowing he'd need to hear it to believe it. "It's not…" I took a shaking breath as I tried to readjust myself, but my constricted muscles refused to cooperate, something I'm sure Bear noticed. "Nightmare."

"Oh," Bear said quietly.

God, this was pathetic. I was so used to dealing with the aftermath alone, now, and—and knowing that Bear was seeing me at my _lowest_—

"Do you think you're done?" He asked softly, his hands still on my back and shoulder, keeping me steady as I shook.

My stomach was still somersaulting, but not as badly as before, and I didn't have anything left to bring up, anyways. I nodded, taking a shuddering breath and coughing, the burn in my throat finally lessening.

"Okay. I'm going to get you some water, alright? Then we'll get you back to bed."

I shook my head, steadying myself as the dizziness persisted. "No. You…I'm okay." I was very clearly not, but I hoped he wouldn't press the issue. Unfortunately, this was Bear, and he was a stubborn bloke.

"You're not," he said. "And that's okay."

He patted my back and left. I heard glasses clinking in the kitchen, the sound of the sink running.

I sniffed, squeezing my eyes shut tighter to try to keep the tears locked in, but somehow, they managed to escape anyways. I didn't want him to see me like this. Of the three of them, he was my first choice, but…I didn't want him to see this. I didn't want anyone to see this.

"Here," he said, and I flinched violently at his voice, not having heard him come back. I felt him still in surprise. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

I heard the quiet clink of the glass as he set it carefully on the tile floor, crouching beside me again. "Can you sit up?"

I shook my head.

"Okay. I'll help. Sound okay?"

I didn't respond, which he took as an answer. He took my shoulders and carefully supported my weight as I leaned back against the tub, keeping my head down. As discreetly as I could, I drew my sleeve over my face, wiping away the tears.

Bear must have seen, but he didn't comment on it. "C'mon. Drink some of this."

He handed me the water, and after a second of fumbling, I managed to take a few sips, the fetid aftertaste diminishing slightly. The tepid water soothed the burn in my throat, but I had to put the glass down before I dropped it, my hand trembling.

"Thanks," I said quietly, barely more than a whisper.

He may have nodded; I wasn't looking. "Do you want to try going back to sleep?"

I shook my head, rubbing one of my eyes. They stung. God, I'd never felt more like a helpless child. "You don't—you can go. I'm fine."

Bear sighed. "You're not. I really don't mind, Jag." He paused. "Do you want to talk about it? Would that help?"

"…I don't know," I said honestly. I'd never talked to anyone about my nightmares before. I'd told Tom and Sabina small things, harmless things, but I'd never, ever let them know just how bad they were. I'd told my psychiatrist, for the brief spell that I spoke to her, that I had them, and that they were bad, but never how they made me feel, and very little of what was in them.

And I never, _ever_ told Jack about them. The last thing I wanted was to push my terrors onto her, when she did so much for me.

I'd never…spoken about them. And while I wanted to, I'd never had anyone to listen. Now that Bear was offering…

Shifting from a crouch to sit on the tile, Bear quietly closed the bathroom door, leaning back against it. "I'll listen. You can tell me as much or as little as you want."

I shifted, wondering what it would accomplish. I didn't want to burden him with this. I didn't want him to know how screwed up I was. How broken.

"…do you have nightmares?" I asked quietly, rubbing my other eye. My arm ached, but it was the familiar ache of healing, instead of the persistent pain of injury. "You don't…you don't, uh—"

"It's fine," Bear said, leaning his head back against the door, blinking thickly. He was tired. I felt bad. "I do." He glanced at me, his eyes darkening a bit as he glanced away. "I get a lot about Elliot, and I know Tiger does, too. Lion only admitted it once, but he…has a lot about his dad. We all get them. None like that, though."

Well, I appreciated his honesty, anyways.

I nodded, shifting a little. I felt the shakiness ebbing a bit, but my hands were still quivering, I crossed my arms, shoving them under my armpits to stop the motions. "I, um—the first part—"

I shivered again, wondering what the bloody hell I was thinking, agreeing to this conversation. Alarm bells were clanging in absolute panic, threatening to send my mind spinning into madness if I let myself continue speaking. This was uncharted territory. This was part of myself I was never supposed to allow into the light.

I kept going.

"It was…uh, Hollis," I admitted quietly. I was suddenly glad it was Bear and not one of the others, because he understood, a little. He knew how much Hollis terrified me, though neither of us had ever said so aloud. He knew a bit more of what I'd been through with him. "Things he said, things he—things he threatened."

Bear nodded, brow furrowing in sympathy. Bear was easily the most expressive of the bunch, and it was showing, now. "Right."

I took another breath, feeling a little bit steadier, trying to ignore the alarm bells still screaming within me. "I saw—I never…" I rubbed my eyes again. I'd stopped crying the moment I sat up, but my eyes still burned, my vision blurred. "I never saw her…Sabina's body. I had to…to leave before the funeral. And—" I shivered again, remembering the phantom feeling of Hollis' hand around my throat as he described in excruciating detail the death of my last thread to meaningful life.

"And I supposed my mind conjured something up to fill that gap," I admitted. "And from there it…it was…a lot of different things."

Bear nodded, giving me a second. "Do you want to keep going?"

I shifted, thinking carefully about the question. Hollis was, ironically, safe territory for us. It was a shared experience of trauma. It was perfectly reasonable for us to talk about it.

From then on, as I liked to say, it was no man's land.

But I was so tired, and so sick of keeping everything locked down. It was writhing and bursting inside of me, and I _needed_ to let something out.

"It was a couple years ago," I approximated, looking away. I stared at the pale purple wallpaper, peeling slightly around the plumbing fixtures. I saw Bear watching me intently. Maybe he knew that this was something I needed to do. Or maybe that was me hoping he did.

"I can't…tell you how I got there," I prefaced, unwilling to divulge the bulk of my past just yet, "but…it ended with me on a pier with a man who…who was absolutely mad. He was an _absolute _madman. But he…he'd spared me, several times, because he wanted…he said I looked like his son. He wanted to adopt me instead of kill me."

I took another slow breath, calming myself. I realized, other than the debrief, this was the first time—the first time I'd told someone about this particular instance in so much detail. I didn't know why this one haunted me so much, when other experiences had taken so much more from me, but…General Sarov was a constant source of nightmares.

I shifted, smiling sardonically at the memory. "I was keeping something from him. Something he needed to…to hurt people. He said he'd shoot me, and I threw it in the river." I saw Bear's eyes narrow in my periphery. "I told him I'd rather die than be his son. And I meant it.

"So, he…well…" I paused, gearing up to say the words. "He looked at me and said, 'it's your fault.' And then he shot himself."

The slight echo of the words left a debilitating silence in their wake, a palpable tension replacing my thin voice. I didn't look at Bear. I couldn't. The alarm bells had since quieted, my mind giving up hope that my heart would stop pouring out my nightmare.

"Sorry," I said after a few seconds of silence, curling in on myself a bit more, now that I had the strength to do so. "That wasn't…I didn't want—"

"Oi," Bear said, his voice pained in sympathy. I risked a glance at him. "It's okay. Thanks for telling me."

He gave me a thin smile, but I could tell the confession had unsettled him. He was fidgety, but his eyes were calm. Worried, maybe, but calm.

I nodded absently, sipping at the lukewarm water, my stomach finally settling. "You can…you can go back to bed. I'm fine now."

Bear shrugged, unmoving. "It's okay. I'm awake now."

My expression must have shown how guilty that made me feel, because he quickly backpedaled. "That's not what I meant. It's almost five in the morning anyways, and I was going to get up early, anyways."

"Oh," I said quietly, setting down the empty glass. I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was go back to sleep, but I knew that was pointless, now. I wouldn't be able to sleep after that. I resigned myself to a day of fatigue. At least I probably wouldn't be expected to do much, anyways.

"Do you want to get back to bed?" Bear asked, stretching against the door and standing. Funny how he asked right as I decided that no, that wasn't an option.

"No…think I'll stay on the couch for a while," I said. "Watch the tellie or something."

Bear nodded, smiling tiredly. "Okay. I'll show you how to work the thing. It's bloody temperamental."

That earned him a half-smile. He helped me stand, which was a bloody adventure in itself, and supported me to the couch. My legs shook like a newborn faun's, and I resisted the urge to punch a hole in their beige drywall in frustration. I also resisted the urge to go off on Bear out of nothing more than frustration and self-pity, because he was being awesome right now, and I felt so utterly useless and pitiful.

"Thank you," I said once I was settled on the couch, the remote in my hand.

Bear tossed me a blanket and smiled, settling into the armchair on the left. "Sure. It's an old thing. We'll probably need a new one soon enough."

"No, uh…" I shifted, spreading the blanket over my legs to avoid looking at him. "For…listening. And staying."

Bear paused. "I like you better when you're honest."

I looked up, startled, and he chuckled. "Sorry, it's just…you're so mysterious, you know? And I know you have your reasons, and I'm more than willing to respect that. There are things about us that you don't know, too, and that's fine. Just…I'm glad to see you opening up some. I don't think you're weak for doing it."

AT my questioning (and probably offended) look, Bear shrugged, glancing outside at the dark sky, streetlights filtering through the drawn curtains. "You gave me something, so I'll return the favor." He paused, taking a deep breath, and I almost told him that he didn't have to do that. But…well, I wouldn't' refuse the gesture, if he was willing to give it.

"My mum left me and my dad when I was nine." Ah. That was why he hadn't mentioned his mum earlier. "I internalized all the hurt, and…anger, you know? I never really talked about it, because I didn't want people to think less of me." He shrugged, almost to himself. "The truth was that I was scared. I was scared that…if I admitted it, she'd never come back. I was holding onto some little hope that if I didn't say anything, if I didn't talk about it, maybe one day she'd come back, and it would all have been a bad dream. Saying it would make it real.

"So I never talked about it, and I never dealt with it. The anger and everything got me into a lot of trouble in middle and high school. I finally made…well, I made a big mistake, and my dad finally made me talk to someone about everything. Bloody hated it at first, and they knew it. But he wouldn't let me stop going."

He paused, narrowing his eyes at himself, kind of like I did when I realized I'd said too much. "Anyways. The point is…sometimes we convince ourselves we're strong for staying quiet, when the bravest thing you can do is speak up."

I blinked, the words slamming into me with the force of a silent, sudden tsunami.

That was…I'd never thought about it like that. I'd never thought…

Bear seemed to realize that I was thrown by his words, and said quickly, "Yeah, don't give me credit for that. Much too poetic to have come from me. That was my therapist. But I remember it when I start internalizing things. I even have it saved as a note in my phone, for when I need to see it."

I nodded absently, still reeling from the revelation his words prompted. That was…that one would take a while to work through.

"Did I break you?" Bear asked jokingly, looking a bit more like himself. "Don't worry, mate, you don't have to start telling us everything at once. It's just something to remember."

I couldn't help but a smile a little, his words putting me at ease. "Yeah. I…thanks."

"Sure thing," he said, getting comfortable in his armchair. "Okay, well…what are we watching?"

We channel-surfed for a few minutes, settling on an American show about two brothers fighting the supernatural. The show was cleverly named Supernatural. Bear made a joke about it.

The show was good, but I didn't have much context, so my mind wandered quickly. Before I knew it, my eyes were drooping. With a quick glance, I saw Bear's doing the same.

Bear and I were both asleep by the time the sun rose.

**A/N: Bear is the best bro don't at me**

**PSA: I meant that line. "**Sometimes we convince ourselves we're strong for staying quiet, when the bravest thing you can do is speak up.**" This is so, so true, and I want you ALL to remember it. If you're suffering in silence, no one can help you. You take away the option for people who love and ****_want_**** to help you. My friend once said that she felt bad for sharing things with her friends, because she didn't want to burden them, or bother them with her problems. Her therapist said:**

**"****And who do you think you are to take that decision away from them?"**

**And I was like WHOA mind BLOWN, but it's true. If you need help, ask for it. Hell, PM me, if you need someone to talk to. I'm here for you, and I care about you. **

**Anyways, ONWARD. Did you guys like getting some more background on L-Unit? I liked writing it. I love these characters so very much. I'll love them even more when I get to explore their dynamics with K-Unit! Who's coming soon! I'm probably going to do a couple short time skips (maybe a week or two at a time or something) to keep the pace rolling, because I don't want this to end up being, you know, like…eighty chapters or something :'D**

**Anyways! Reviews! I love you. Very much: BethWils04, reginamare, Asilrettor, Double-Oh-Nothing007, Weirdo, ProcrastinationAndCoffe, LoveRider, DaisyLynn21, otterpineapple06, Riderkitty, Fangtasia21, Cute Fishy, Guest, Em0Wolf, Band-007, Ichigo1217, PuffandProud, chelanfish1, Gwennwyfar, Fangirl all da way, Guest, and Mac!**

**Reginamare: I know it's wonderful! And OMG I FREAKING LOVE PRODIGAL SON IT'S AMAZING AHHHHHHH! Also YES Alex is so sassy XD**

**Weirdo: hey, of course! Me toooooooo XD**

**LoveRider: hahaha I know right he's stubborn as a mule**

**Fangtasia21 (If they're an Oz meeting, then what is a K-unit?): THE MUNCHKINS OMG YES**

**Guest (It's cool that you respond to every review): Of course! You guys take the time to review and I want you to know how much I appreciate it :) And hehe yes it does though it may be more because I tend to undershoot lol. And YES WE DO! **

**Em0Wolf: Thanks so much, I'm glad you think so!**

**Guest (Heyy, please think about setting an update schedule cause I'm so so impatient): Hey! Sorry, I don't have an update schedule because honestly I don't have a schedule myself, so I have no idea when I'll actually have time to sit down and write. I'm honestly just afraid that if I set one I won't be able to stick to it, and in my mind that would honestly…be more disappointing? Let me know if you disagree, and I'll consider it. Thanks for the review, and I'm glad you're enjoying it!**

**Mac: Of course! It may take a while, but I will :) and thanks so much for an awesome compliment!**

**As always, thanks so much for everyone's wonderful support, and have an awesome day! Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review if you did! :)**


	17. Chapter 16

The sharp whine of a tea kettle woke me the next morning, but I was too comfortable to immediately move.

"How'd you two end up in the living room, anyway?" I recognized Lion's voice nearby, and I thought he'd spoken to me. Resignedly, I almost replied from the cocoon I'd somehow created with the blanket, but Bear responded before I could.

"Woke up around four thirty this morning to some noise," he said, his voice more distant. I heard a clinking mug, and assumed he was making tea. Lion sounded like he was in the kitchen, too. "Jag was in the bathroom. He had a bad nightmare."

_Ah, shit_, I thought, still unwilling to break the spell of peace and warmth I was locked in. I decided to eavesdrop for a moment and figure out what Bear revealed.

"Is he alright?" Lion asked, his voice concerned. I could practically picture the furrowed eyebrows, his mouth flat in worry.

"Yeah, he was okay when he fell asleep," Bear conceded, punctuated by running water and a clink. He must've put something in the sink. "It was bad for a few minutes, though. Poor kid's been through piles of shit."

"Did he talk to you about it?" Lion's voice was colored with surprise. "I thought he would've clammed up."

"Me too. But yeah, he talked a bit. First part was about Hollis, then…well. Apparently someone shot himself in front of him after telling him it was his fault." He paused, and I opened my eyes, staring quietly at the tellie and the living room, bathed in the golden rays of early morning. I hadn't slept for long, then. "I had a feeling there was more to the dream, but…" He paused. "He'd said enough for the night."

Bear paused, and I listened intently, clutching the blanket in my good hand. God, what I would give to spend then rest of my life on this nice warm couch, without anything else mattering. "I've never seen anyone like that, Lion. I startled him, and…I really think he thought I was going to hurt him, at first."

Honestly, I almost marched in and clocked Bear for the blunt reveal, but I knew last night that if I was confiding in one of them, it would reach all of them eventually, anyways. I supposed I knew that after the first few times. It was still a little frustrating, though. I couldn't help the bloody flinching, he didn't need to advertise it.

"Jesus," Lion said quietly. "What the hell?"

"That's what I was thinking," Bear admitted. "After he'd calmed down some, we watched the tellie for a while, and he fell asleep. Unfortunately, I did, too. I was going to go by the youth center for a while."

Lion laughed quietly. "You can nap anywhere. You should've known."

Their conversation continued aimlessly, and I took the moment to stretch, disentangling myself from the blanket and sitting up. I blinked blearily, sleep still weighing heavily on my eyelids, and rolled my left shoulder. The wound pulled, but it felt alright. I probably needed to put it back in the sling, though.

"Look who's alive," Lion said from the doorway, and I turned to look at him, still squinting from the remnants of sleep. Lion chuckled. "Or maybe not."

"Not," I affirmed, deciding to steadfastly ignore any and all questions about my wellbeing at least until I'd drunk some coffee. Preferably forever, but I reckoned that wouldn't go over so well. I stood, promptly falling back to the couch when the living room started to spin. "Whoa."

Lion looked like he couldn't decide whether to be amused or worried, leaning against the doorframe with a steaming mug in his hand. "You alright?"

"Just a little dizzy," I admitted, rubbing my forehead. "I'll be fine after some coffee."

Bear brushed past Lion and into the living room, eyes narrowing. "You look worse than you did last night."

"Oh, thank you," I bit, though I could admit that I probably looked like a ghost at the moment. I felt pretty bad.

"You're eating something," Bear said resolutely, turning back to the kitchen, "then taking your medicine. Then going back to sleep."

If I was being honest, I didn't have much to do besides that, but being denied the option was enough to piss me off. "I'll watch the tellie for a while. I'm really fine, I just have trouble getting going in the morning."

Lion raised an eyebrow. "You stood up and almost face-planted into our table. I'd say that's a little more than just some trouble."

I didn't comment, sending him a look before trying again, steadying myself on the edge of the couch as I got my bearings. "See? All fine." The world was only spinning a little bit, anyways.

I wobbled into the kitchen, earning a disapproving glare from Bear. "I hope you're here to tell me you're going to spend the rest of the day horizontal."

"Bear, I really appreciate what you did last night and what you're trying to do now, but please don't mother me," I said firmly, steadying myself on the counter and grabbing a coffee mug from the shelf, my hand shaking the slightest bit.

I was very appreciative of Bear and his willingness to help me and worry for me, but I was also struck with just how bad last night's nightmare had been, and by the fact that my walls had been reduced to _dangerously_ low blockades. I'd spoken much more than I should have, and I was paying for it now.

I remembered Bear's words, about being brave for speaking up, but I was nowhere near ready to face them just yet.

Bear gave me an unreadable expression before shimmying the frying pan in his hand, runny eggs congealing from the heat. "I'm not mothering you. You're pushing yourself well past your body's limits, and as the medic, and your friend, I'm trying to make you understand that you're not proving anything but your absolute stupidity and lack of self-preservation by stumbling around like a drunk on a bender and calling it independence."

I blinked, trying to translate the sentence, squinting at Bear as my lagging brain tried to keep up. I heard Lion laugh from the living room. "Bear, he's not used to you in post-disaster medic mode. You have to ease him in."

"Shut up, prat," Bear shot back. Lion snorted.

Bear glanced at me, then sighed reluctantly, plating the eggs as the toaster dinged in alarm. "Just…I know you're obviously not used to letting people help you, but you can't be so independent that you don't let yourself heal. Alright?"

I blinked again, feeling my face heat. I looked down, sliding the coffee cup in his direction. "Two sugars, no cream."

Bear kind of looked like he wanted to be mad, but he smiled a little. "I didn't say you could turn me into your bloody butler, kid."

I couldn't help but smile a little. "All or nothing, Bear."

Bear laughed, then, and something in my chest eased. I really didn't like it when Bear was upset. It felt wrong. "Sure, sure. Taking advantage of my generous nature. Get out of my kitchen."

I laughed quietly. "Thanks."

"You're very welcome, Jigsaw."

I stilled, glancing back at him with what I hoped was an incredulous expression. "The hell was that?"

"Your new nickname," Bear said, and I could hear Lion continuing to laugh in the living room. "Jigsaw. Because you're a puzzle. C'mon, I thought it was funny!"

I didn't even dignify that with a response, sitting back on the couch. Lion's eyes danced with mirth in my periphery.

"Not a word," I warned, fumbling for the remote.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

I managed to fenagle the tellie to the correct settings, putting on the morning news. Bear brought me coffee and eggs and toast, and I felt like an absolutely useless excuse for a human being, but I couldn't say anything after his monologue earlier. "Thanks."

"Sure," Bear said, plopping down beside me with his own plate. "Just don't tell Tiger. That was the last of his coffee."

He said so mid-sip, and I almost inhaled it on accident. "Oh. I'm sorry, I wouldn't have asked for it if I'd known."

Lion chuckled. "Nah, it's funny. If you're going to stick around, dealing with Tiger on a day he doesn't get coffee is practically a rite of passage."

"Speak of the devil," Bear whispered, tipping his head towards the back hallway.

As if summoned by the conversation, a bedraggled Tiger with an expression that could incinerate a planet stumbled out into the living room, not even glancing in our direction before continuing to the kitchen.

"Shit," I breathed, chugging the coffee to hide the evidence. Bear and Lion were trying very hard not to laugh, remaining quiet as I threw back the hot drink, hoping to finish before Tiger inevitably discovered the theft.

There was a few seconds of shuffling, some opening and closing of cabinets, and a couple mumbled expletives when I finally set the empty mug down, breathing heavily. Damn, that was hot.

Then, there were a couple seconds of silence.

Then…

"Which one of you sons of bitches thought it was a good idea to take my _bloody_ coffee?"

…

A week later, I was settled more comfortably into the L-Unit flat. I'd had a couple more nightmares, but I'd been doubly sure to remain exceptionally quiet during and after, so I didn't have to repeat last week's experience.

Living with the guys outside of Brecon Beacons was a different experience, one I found I actually enjoyed. Tiger, surprisingly, was a bit more open with me now that he was at home, for which I was grateful. Bear continued to be a good friend and overbearing maniac, but I…enjoyed his company.

Lion…well, I'd actually decided that I didn't know Lion all that well, compared to the other two. He'd been awesome, very supportive and patient, and _kind_, but he didn't talk about himself much, or give much away. I wondered if it was on purpose, or a byproduct of his childhood.

I got the chance to get to know him a bit more one day, and I was…actually kind of eager to do so. Bear had confided in me, and even Tiger had let down his walls a bit…but that first time, when Lion told me about his father and his childhood, it was like he was reading from a script. I knew it had been hard to do, but…he'd seemed…blasé, almost, about the reveal. I was letting so many secrets come to light, and knowing that I knew so little about him, and what made him tick, was disconcerting.

"Ready?" He asked, knocking twice on my open door.

"Yeah," I said, shoving my feet into my trainers and adjusting my sling. It was my first day of physical therapy and my first appointment with the shrink I'd been assigned. I'd clammed up as soon as Lion told me, but I felt a little better after he explained that it was standard practice for anyone who'd been captive by the enemy on an assignment, for however long. Bear assured me that he was going to have to see one, too.

Since I couldn't drive (which I chalked up to my extended period of nonexistence instead of the fact that I, um, wasn't of age yet) Lion offered to take me. He and Tiger both owned cars. I'd gathered that Bear usually took the subway whenever he needed to get around. I felt kind of bad that Lion was wasting his whole day chauffeuring me around, but he'd assured me he had some errands in the city to run, anyways.

"Well, we'll be late if we dally any longer," Lion said, twirling the keys in his hand. "You alright for the stairs, or do you want to try the lift?"

"Stairs are fine," I assured, tugging on a jacket and flinging the left arm over my sling. God, I hoped to get rid of this bloody thing soon. It was so annoying. "I feel good today."

"Don't let the shrinks scare you," Tiger said from the living room, flicking through channels. He was a little too happy about having the flat to himself for the day; Bear was volunteering at a youth center or something outside London. Apparently he did that a lot while he was home. "They're vultures, but they're easy enough to deal with."

"Thanks for the warning," I said. I was somewhat dreading the experience, but I also knew that I'd probably be able to talk circles in them, unless they were _very_ good. Which, according to Tiger, wouldn't be the case.

We were going to the London branch, so our drive was a little under an hour. We spent most of it in silence. After a week cooped up in the flat, watching the scenery pass was nice.

"How're you settling in?" Lion asked as we approached the outskirts of London, cars packed nice and tight on the inlets.

"Good," I admitting, readjusting my jacket, which had begun to slip off my slinged shoulder. "I still feel bad about using Elliot's room, but…I like it there."

I saw Lion quirk a smile out of the corner of my eye. "I'm glad."

Silence resumed, but it wasn't thick or heavy. It was nice, companionable silence. It reminded me of the days of silence I'd spend with Ian, sometimes. He'd be working, and I'd be reading, or watching the tellie, but…we were together. We didn't have to talk, or anything.

I closed my eyes. What I wouldn't give to have another day with him.

"You alright?"

"Hm?" I said, glancing at him. "Ah, yeah. Just thinking."

"What about?"

I shrugged, continuing to look out the window. Couldn't hurt, I supposed. "My uncle."

Lion nodded. "Yeah? You said he raised you, right?"

"Yeah," I conceded, knowing full well that Lion was fishing for information. Well, it startled me to admit it, but...I was almost nonchalant, now, about revealing little pieces of information. After Bear watching me utterly break down, and Lion and Tiger seeing the aftermath…it felt like anything I told them couldn't possibly be as bad as knowing they'd seen that.

"Are you close?"

I smiled a little, involuntarily, thousands of snapshot memories filtering through my mind. Mountain climbing, scuba diving, camping, holidays, and those days of companionable silence. "Yeah. We were, anyway."

Lion didn't say anything, but he nodded.

The facility was far enough away from the Bank that I wasn't too worried about anyone recognizing me, but it was still a military facility, so I'd hide my face as much as possible. I'd finally re-dyed my hair, too, so that would help. Lion had helped. I felt kind of bad; he'd ruined one of his shirts.

"I'll be in the lobby when you're done," Lion assured, patting my shoulder as I followed the nurse back to the physical therapy wing.

Tiger warned me about the psychiatrists, but he _should've_ warned me about the physical therapists. Apparently they'd taken lessons from Dr. Three in their courses.

I blinked as the thought crossed my mind. That was…very dark humor. I'd avoid that in the future.

However, I couldn't help but think it was true. My therapist Lissa was very nice, but she didn't mess around. I would've thought we'd be starting with some stretching, perhaps some light motions, but she had me lifting weights almost as soon as I took the sling off. It was disconcerting to know how much strength I'd lost in the arm, but at least she was jumping right in. I didn't know if I'd have the patience for gradual improvement.

Unfortunately, that meant I was getting the speed-treatment, which was so far unpleasant.

"You look like you just ran a marathon," Lion commented as I stumbled into the lobby, where he was twirling the keys in his hand and perusing the magazines on te coffee table. "And then doubled back and did it again."

I gave a short, humorless laugh, my arm and upper body aching. "Feels like it. Lissa doesn't mess around."

"Oh, you got Lissa? She's brilliant. I tore a muscle a couple years back and she worked on me. She's tough, though."

I scoffed. "You don't say."

The shrink was in a different wing of the facility, and I was pleased that, while I was winded once we finally got there, I didn't have to stop and rest along the way. Lissa said I was doing quite well for someone who'd recently survived sepsis, but that I still needed to watch my exertion. Apparently, physical therapists were psychic, and knew exactly how much one overexerted themselves, and she gave me hell for it.

Bear would get a kick out of that.

The receptionist gave me enough paperwork to kill half a forest, so Lion and I hunkered down in a corner of the waiting room while I scanned through it all. It was mostly just standard stuff, medical history and everything. I supposed I should answer truthfully to at least that, in case they had questions about the medication in my file.

Lion resigned himself to flipping through a copy of _Cosmopolitan_ (he defended that the options were limited) while I worked through the stack of papers, stopping briefly on the fourth page.

_Do you have any pre-existing mental health conditions?_

I snorted, and started checking boxes. Lion glanced over, eyes narrowing as I worked my way down the list. "Damn, kid. Is there any box you aren't checking?"

I glanced at him, then scanned the list again. "Um…schizophrenia."

Lion shook his head. I shrugged.

It must have been a slow day, because I went back fairly soon after I turned the paperwork in. I was led to a cramped little office with a sofa and a cluttered desk, papers and files piled in every available space. Behind the desk sat a mousy middle-aged man (bonus points for alliteration), with thick, horn-rimmed glasses and a casual outfit that practically advertised a midlife crisis.

"Ah, Mr. Smith," the man said, glancing up from his computer as I rapped twice on the door. He stood and crossed around the desk, sinking into an armchair nestled in the corner and gesturing to the couch. "Come in, have a seat. Or would you prefer Matthew?"

"Matthew is fine," I said, closing the door behind me and settling on the couch. It was deceptively comfortable; it looked like it had been crafted in the stone age. I glanced at the nameplate on his desk. "Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Hash."

"And you," he said with a thin smile. I decided I didn't hate him. He didn't seem overly imposing, or aggressive. Perhaps I'd make it out of here alive after all. "How are you doing today?"

I shrugged, glancing around the room. There were a couple framed degrees and some pictures on his desk of him and a woman with red hair, and a couple kids. "I'm well. Bit tired. I just came from a physical therapy session."

"Ah, yes, I've heard those can be quite brutal," he said sympathetically, opening a folder. I recognized my paperwork. "You're with the SAS, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"And it looks like…you're fairly new. How're you settling in?"

I took a second to word my answer. "Good. It was…rocky at first, but that's to be expected, I suppose. We're getting on well now."

"Pleased to hear it," he said with a small smile. The small-talk continued for a few moments, and he asked some more detailed questions about my family history and my own history with mental illness, but I think he gathered that I didn't much care for the topic. After about twenty minutes of beating around the bush, he finally got to the point.

"So, I understand you were taken captive on your last assignment," he said, his posture relaxed as he set his files to the side, watching me intently.

"Yes, sir," I answered, planning to keep my answers brief and impersonal for the most part. I supposed the trick would be making them just genuine enough to earn his approval, but I didn't want to let out more than I needed to. "For about sixteen hours."

"I see." The vague answer set me on edge, and I shifted a bit. "Would you like to elaborate on your experience, or would you like me to ask questions?"

Well. It was nice of him to give the option. "There really isn't much to tell; I was unconscious for most of the time." That was actually true. While the worst memories were highlighted in excruciating detail that would take decades to fade, the rest was a formless haze of distant feelings, instead of memories.

"And why was that?"

I shifted again, my arm aching in phantom pain at the memory of the infection. "I was going into septic shock. I'd been cut a couple days before, and the cut had gotten infected." I gestured to the sling. "It's what I'm in physical therapy for. I was mostly slipping in and out."

"Hm," he said, and I decided I was liking him less and less. I didn't like the vague one-word answers and the decidedly neutral expression, and his apparent inability to reveal any genuine emotion. It made me feel like he knew something I didn't, and it was pissing me off.

I blinked.

Holy shit. My poor unit.

Before I could dwell on it, though, he continued, "Well, why don't you tell me about the men who took you?"

I debated telling him no, but I supposed that wouldn't go over too well on a psych eval. "It was our package, Frederick Hollis, and three Irishmen who'd come to spring him. I never learned their names." If I could keep my statements clinical, detached, I could get through this. I took a deep breath to calm my quickening pulse, shifting to hide the movement. "Hollis was a convicted terrorist, murderer, and more, and it showed in his actions. He showed above-average intelligence and was very egotistical, which dictated a lot of his actions. He wasn't quick to anger, but he seemed to go ballistic once he snapped. The Irishmen seemed more like grunts than anything, but they were resourceful, and dangerous."

Dr. Hash raised an eyebrow. "What?" I asked, unable to hide the defensive bite in my tone.

"You sound like you're reciting a report," he explained, adjusting his position. "Forgive the cliché, but…how did you feel during this time?"

I shrugged, suddenly very intrigued by the intricate patterns in the rug. "Exhausted. Scared. For myself and for my teammate, Bear. I was kind of…stuck in a limbo, almost, not knowing which would kill me first—the sepsis or Hollis. It helped to focus on a way to get out of there."

"And what was your plan for that?"

"I had a knife on my ankle. Bear used it to tunnel out. The earth was damp and soft, so it only took him around eight hours, or so. Then he ran to find help."

"So you were alone for a portion of your captivity?"

No, I had an imaginary friend. What the bloody hell did he think happened after Bear left, I spawned a twin? "Yes."

_Deep breaths_, I reminded myself, realizing that I was getting both defensive _and_ aggressive. Knowing me, that was never a good combination, especially towards someone who had a big say in when I could return to active duty. The last thing I wanted was to keep my unit out of the field because of my own weakness.

"And what happened during that time?"

I shrugged again. It was a safe gesture. "Not much." Well, that was a damn lie. "I was unconscious for most of it; I'd been getting worse, and by then, I wasn't doing well. Hollis came down to…ask me some questions, but he didn't hurt me much." Physically, anyways. "An hour or so later, he took me out front. He was going to shoot me and leave me for my unit to find. I'd managed to pry a zipper off of Bear's jacket, and I bought them a few minutes by shoving it into his eye."

The gruesome image flashed into my mind, and I had to blink it away. The few seconds of silence must have told the therapist volumes, but he let me continue uninterrupted. "Then my unit showed up and I was airlifted to a Czech hospital."

Dr. Hash was silent for a moment, eyebrows drawn together in a pensive frown. "That sounds like a harrowing experience."

"Well, it's not something I'd like to repeat."

"You don't sound very upset," he observed, sitting up straighter.

"I don't like to dwell on things too much," I bullshitted, going for a 'well-adjusted' vibe. "I was lucky to survive, and now it's over. I suppose that's all there is to it."

"Well," Dr. Hash said, picking up his file again and flipping through it. "You have a fairly long dossier when it comes to dealing with mental illness, Mr. Smith."

I tensed, feeling my shoulders tighten. "I guess."

"I'm concerned that, despite that, there's no record of therapy on your medical records," he said, leafing through the forms. "It seems like you have some trauma that hasn't been properly addressed, and I'm concerned that this experience may exacerbate those other symptoms, despite the medication you're on."

I decided to helpfully withhold the fact that I wasn't taking the medication. "I've been fine so far, and I think I'll continue to be fine. I spoke to a family friend off the record a few times, and she was very helpful."

"Would you like to discuss anything unrelated to your assignment?" He asked, looking up from his files and looking right at me.

"No," I said stiffly, holding his gaze.

He sighed, glancing at the clock, and readjusting his glasses. "Well, it seems our half hour is up, anyways. I'd like you to come in a few more times while you're on leave."

"Is that necessary?" I asked, eyeing him as he crossed to his desk, scribbling something on a slip of paper.

"Well, it would make me feel more comfortable," he admitted, handing the paper to me. "That's your next appointment. You can reschedule with the receptionist if it doesn't work, but I'd like to see you again in two weeks."

Damn. That sucked. I wondered if I could reschedule it and keep doing so until we went back on duty. Or maybe I'd schedule it for Christmas Eve just to piss him off.

"Well, thank you," I said, rising and practically fleeing the room, desperate to get out of the cramped space.

I stopped in the bathroom before I went back to the desk, splashing some cold water on my face and taking a second to breathe. My hands were shaking.

I took a deep breath as I leaned over the porcelain sink, willing my heart to calm. My chest felt tight.

Damn. I was a mess. I was held together with duct tape and pointless hope, and it seemed like every day, someone was picking at the edges of the tape with a grin and a promise to make it better.

I gave myself two more minutes to calm down, ignoring an employee who came in and gave me a questioning glance, before continuing to the lobby. I gave the slip to the receptionist who confirmed the appointment, and then found Lion, who'd moved on to a copy of _Home and Garden_. Sabina had like that magazine in California. I wondered what it was doing in England.

"Ready?" I asked, unable to help a smile as he jumped, not having heard me approach.

"Damn ghost," he scowled without any heat, returning the magazine to its pile. "Sure. How'd it go?"

"Fine."

He didn't ask again.

…

"Are you serious?" I asked as Lion eased the car into the handicapped parking spot outside the bustling shopping center, looking towards the ice cream shop on the corner.

"Yes," he said, turning off the engine and glancing at me. "You were white as a ghost after your appointment. I figure ice cream should help."

"I'm not a kid, you know," I said defensively, glancing at the shop. It seemed innocent enough. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had ice cream, either. I thought it might have been with Sabina on a boardwalk she liked to frequent, which just twisted my gut.

"Jaguar, I'm twenty-seven years old, and I have never once in my life turned down ice cream," he said resolutely, opening his door. "Seriously. Come on."

I sighed, resigned to my fate, and followed.

Lion got mint chocolate chip. I got Rocky Road.

It was a nice day, so Lion insisted we sit outside. I felt heat flame in my cheeks with every questioning look we received. After all, it wasn't every day people saw two (almost) grown men eating ice cream on the patio.

"You're quiet," Lion said, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it, taking a long drag.

"I'm always quiet," I defended, taking another bite. I'd missed ice cream.

Lion smirked, releasing a smoky breath. "I suppose."

"Was there a reason you wanted to come get ice cream?" I asked.

"Why would there be?"

"Because you don't seem like the kind of guy to waste gestures," I said carefully.

Lion chuckled. "That's not entirely true, but yeah. You caught me. I wanted to let you know that K-Unit will be hanging around a lot in December; they wanted to wait a bit so they could see their families on Christmas."

I felt the blood drain from my face even as I looked away, hoping to hide the reaction. "Oh. Alright."

"And that's why I wanted to talk to you, because you reacted badly in the hospital, too," Lion said, leaning forward. He looked more serious now, eyes honest and earnest. "What's up, Jag? What's wrong with K-Unit?"

Shit.

I took a breath, the taste of caramel turning to ash as I tried to keep the panic from overflowing. "Lion, I'd really…really rather not talk about it."

"And I get that, kid, I do," he said, looking concerned again. Damn, he should patent the expression. It made me feel defensive and guilty all in one go. "But I want to help, if there's a problem. You can't just keep everything to yourself all the time."

"Lion—look, I don't want to be rude, okay? I really don't," I started, knowing full well that what I was about to say would sound just that. "But honestly, you don't get it. You don't, and that's fine. I wouldn't want you to. But every time any of you asks me a question about…about me, or my past, or both, I feel like the world is about to end, alright? I feel like everything I've worked so hard to leave behind is going to come flooding back, and that will be the end of me. Every innocent question you ask, every time you think it's going to be an easy answer, I'm wondering if I'm going to have a heart attack. That's how much I'm panicking. And I know you—you told me about you, and what happened to you, and I was really grateful. I still am. But you were, at least you _seemed_, prepared to do that, and I'm not. I can't even tell you how terrifying it is to know that every day I'm going to be expected to reveal something else, knowing that one day I'm going to slip up and have it all come crumbling down. There are some things I _can't_ talk about, that will just…absolutely blow everything I've tried to build to absolute _shit_, and you can't get that. So I'm sorry, but…no. Just…just no."

I looked down when I was finally finished, watching a drop of runny chocolate ice cream fall through the gaps in the iron table to the pavement below. My heart was racing like usual, and my hands were clenched in fists beneath the table, my knee bobbing in nervousness and anger and…and fear. I didn't want to look at Lion.

"I'm sorry," I said after a second of silence, running a hand down my face. "Sorry, you—you didn't deserve that."

He didn't answer. Damn, I'd probably offended him worse than I thought. Shit. All the progress we'd made, and I'd just taken it and—and blown it to hell, like everything else.

"I can't drink because I'm terrified I'll become my father," Lion said quietly.

I glanced up, surprised, to see him looking out at the car park, eyes dark and far, far away. I opened my mouth to tell him that he didn't have to say anything else, because this had absolutely not been my intention, but he kept going before I could.

"I've never had a sip of alcohol. When me and the guys hit the bar, or the club, I'm always the DD, because I can't stand the thought of drinking like he did and becoming what he was. I think it scares me more than anything else."

He paused, and I started, again, to tell him to stop, because now I felt like the worst human ever to walk the planet, but he kept going.

"I smoke," he said, looking intently at the cigarette in his hand, "because when I was ten, he started burning me with them. When I was fifteen, I found a few under his bed. I wanted to…I wanted to understand the thing that hurt me, and I went and got myself addicted to nicotine. It was just a few at first. One every once in a while. By the time I was twenty-two, I was smoking a pack a day.

"I've been trying to quit. Tiger and Bear don't know, but…I've been trying nicotine patches, cold turkey, reducing the number I smoke a day, and…well. It hasn't gone very well, honestly." He punctuated the statement with a sardonic shrug, and I could only sit in abject horror, knowing I'd been the one to prompt all these very private reveals, and I felt even worse.

"When I…when I was sixteen, he finally crossed a line." Lion's eyes darkened. I didn't think that was possible anymore, but it happened. "He was…he had some poker buddies over. He…" Lion's face twisted, and I could tell it was agonizing to get the words out, but somehow, he did. "The bastard was going to…was going to let them…have Angie. For the night."

A cold stone of dread settled in my stomach.

"I stopped them, thank God," Lion said, taking a drag on the cigarette, his hands shaking just slightly. "But…well, they gave me the beating of my life, and I wasn't about to let it happen again. To either of us. Angie called the cops, and we disappeared before they got there. They tracked us down a few months later, but our dad was in jail, and that was all that really mattered."

Lion finally stopped, and I thought I was going to drown in the guilt pooling around me. God, I was an asshole.

"You were right," he said before I could apologize. He looked at me, and I'd never seen this side of Lion, and I never wanted to see it again. "It does kind of feel like the world's ending."

I couldn't even answer him.

…

The car ride back was painfully, painfully silent, and I drafted and scrapped and re-drafted dozens and dozens of long-winded apologizes that could never, ever do my guilt justice.

Lion drove in silence. His shoulders were relaxed again, but his eyes were quiet, and there was no trace of the usual easy smile or friendly gaze.

I was officially the worst human alive.

I realized I'd run out of time when we pulled into the garage down the block from our flat, and I was nowhere near ready to apologize, but Lion was opening the door to get out, and…and it was now or never.

"I'm…I'm so sorry, Lion," I said quietly, not looking at him as I fiddled with my sling. "I never meant…I'm so sorry I made you dredge all that up. I feel awful."

Lion took a deep breath and closed the door, sinking back in his seat. His expression was blank. "You shouldn't be. I'm sorry, too. If I had known that's what you've been feeling for the past month and a half, I never would've pushed you."

"What? No, I'm fine," I said quickly, trying to redirect the conversation. "Seriously, I…thanks for telling me, but I feel really bad. I never meant for you to…to let everything out, you know?"

Lion finally looked at me, and I saw a shadow of a smile. "No worries, kid. I'll be alright. Just…do me a favor and don't mention it to the others, yeah?"

I nodded. Of course not.

He made to exit the car once more, but I had one more idea. "Hey."

"Hm?" He said, turning to me.

"Listen, um…" I fiddled with my sleeves, feeling incredibly self-conscious and small, but determined, nonetheless. "I…I'll make you a deal."

I took a deep breath. "For…for every day that you don't smoke, or that you meet your scaled-back goal…I'll…I'll answer a question." I took a breath, but quickly continued, rambling, "But I totally have to right to veto a question. Like, you can't just ask me to spill everything. But, um, if I veto one, you can ask another one. Just…yeah."

I fidgeted uncomfortably for a few seconds, finally glancing at him. His eyes were wide. "Seriously? You don't…why would you do that, kid? Now I know how much it sucks, I don't want to make you do that."

I shrugged. "You've…well, you've done a lot for me. This way, I guess…we can help each other?" I said, phrasing it like a question, feeling my neck heat up. "You don't—you don't have to. If it's stupid please just tell me, and I'll forget all about it."

Of course he'd think it was stupid. It was the most childish thing I think I'd ever offered to anyone. Ever. I was feeling the embarrassment manifest in the sweat on my neck and my fidgety hands, waiting for him to shoot it down.

Instead, he smiled, slow and small, but genuine. Real and genuine and…touched.

I glanced at him, still self-conscious, and he ruffled my hair. I was surprised by how…gentle he seemed right now. Nothing like the intimidating SAS man I'd thought he was at first, just…someone like me with a lot of shit to unpack and no desire to do so.

But he gave a small laugh, shaking his head, and it was enough.

"I think I'd like that a lot, Jag."

I blinked in surprise, but didn't get a chance to answer as he patted my shoulder and got out of the car, stretching. He turned away from me, raising the cigarette he'd been smoking on the way to his lips, and pausing. A few seconds later, he crushed it under his boot, and threw it away.

After a second of uncertain silence, I gave a small, disbelieving laugh.

It…it was progress.

It was really good progress.

It was enough.

**A/N: Ehehehe that was so satisfying to write. I love them. Let me know what you think!**

**As always, you're all amazing! Thank you so so much for the favoriting and following! And for my reviewers, I love youuuuuuuu you're amaziiiiiiiiing!: Weirdo, LoveRider, scarlettmeadows, fa6imah.200, Luna Space, Asilrettor, Alex Rider Fan, Guest, onedemoniclily, Aima, otterpineapple06, reginamare, ClarenzaK, Guest, RiderKitty, Fangirl all da way, Guest, Guest, VINAI, Guest, Charlie, Guest, and Blondie 24-7!**

**Weirdo: Aw thanks so much! They're great to write XD OMG thank you so much! I'd love to! I'm honored! Okay here goes [Iron Man 1, IM2, Thor, Cap Am. 1, Avengers, IM 3, Thor 2, CA 2, Guardians of the Galaxy, Avengers 2, and so one. That should get you through my story! There are complete lists online, too! Thanks so much!**

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**…**

**Thank you guys so, so much for all the continued support, and for all of you who helped me out with the British terminology! :D Hope you liked the chapter. Let me know! **


	18. Chapter 17

I fidgeted in the doorway, feeling like a man on death row. I hated meeting new people.

"You look like you're about to walk the plank," Tiger said, nudging my shoulder as he passed by me into the living room, book in hand. "It's Lion's sister, her husband, and a kid. It's not an American Delta Force."

I sent him a look, rolling my shoulders. It was easier now that I'd finally gotten rid of that bloody sling. "I don't like new people. Sue me."

Tiger smirked. "You'll be fine. You speak six languages, I'm sure you'll come up with something to say."

I flipped him off, scowling. "Not the bloody point."

"You _cannot_ start fighting before they even get here," Lion called resolutely from the kitchen, flitting around like a regular housewife. Apparently, he was one hell of a cook. "I'm excited, and if you ruin it, you're getting kicked out. End of discussion."

"Yes, boss," Tiger called, flipping to his last spot in his book.

Resigned to my fate, I wandered to the kitchen, watching Lion multitask like an octopus on steroids. "Can I help?"

Lion glanced at me, then at my arm. "Are you alright to? Are you tired?"

"I'm a little tired, but I think it will be good to move around," I assured, rolling my left shoulder. "It aches a little, but it doesn't really hurt."

"Then you could cut some vegetables, if you're bored," he said, indicating a clear sliver of counterspace with a cutting board and a bowl of vegetables. "Dicing would be good."

Well, I didn't have anything better to do, anyways. I set to it, and we worked in companionable silence. It was nice to hear the flat so quiet, only the sounds of sizzling meat and the soft flaps of Tiger turning pages, the rhythmic thunk of the knife against the board.

Then Bear got back.

"Where's my favorite nephew?" He shouted as he came in, and I peeked around into the hallway to see a couple bags on his arms. I assumed he'd gone shopping for something.

"Not here yet," Tiger said. "You're bloody loud."

"One of my best traits," he said, dumping the bags on the open armchair. "Lion, the runt still likes footie, right?"

"He's obsessed with it," Lion confirmed. "Come here and try this."

Eventually, Tiger found his way into the kitchen as well, pestering Lion for samples. I had to smile at the absurd normalcy of the environment. It was odd when you considered what we did for a living.

Lion went on a time crunch about thirty minutes later, becoming an utter drill sergeant as he ordered us around like slaves. I wasn't afraid to pull the sepsis card a little while later, earning a dirty look from Tiger, who took over my job drying dishes as I collapsed into the recliner.

"He's gonna murder you," Bear said as he came in, grabbing the bags from the chair to take to his room. "He hates dishes."

"He'll be fine," I said, feeling a little devious.

Bear raised an eyebrow, shaking his head and laughing under his breath. "You're a sneaky kid, I'll give you that."

I laughed, flipping on the tellie and setting it on a documentary. I figured I didn't need to be watching anything too violent when the kid and his parents got here.

The doorbell rang a few minutes later, and I forced myself to calm down. They weren't MI6 grunts, they weren't SCORPIA assassins, they weren't CIA spooks or ASIS spies. It was literally a small family with a small child. I was being bloody ridiculous.

That didn't make me feel any better when Lion asked me to get the door.

I thought about protesting, but I figured Lion was busy trying not to burn the roast, and I was already on Tiger's bad side. Best get it over with.

I opened the door to reveal Angelica, Jacob, and Jonah, who was holding his mother's hand and bouncing on his feet. As soon as I'd turned the door handle, I heard a young voice shout, "Uncle Danny!"

I blinked as expectant eyes settled on me, only to darken in confusion as Jonah stared. He was wearing an Arsenal jersey and denim trousers, colorful trainers on his shuffling feet. "You're not Uncle Danny."

"Um…no," I confirmed, glancing at the parents, who seemed amused. They didn't seem surprised by the stranger in their brother's flat, so I assumed Lion had told them about me. "I'm…a friend of your uncle. He's in the kitchen with Ti—uh, Sam."

I stepped aside to let them by, but they stopped inside the foyer. Angie had a smile that could light up a room, and when she fixed it on me, I blushed furiously. "Daniel's told me a lot about you, sweetie. It's great to finally meet you."

She surprised my by hugging me, and I didn't know what to do at first. I hadn't been hugged in a long time. Awkwardly, I returned it, letting myself relax a bit.

It felt like Jack's hugs.

"Um…it's nice to meet you too," I said as she pulled back, giving her an awkward smile. "And…and you, Jacob."

Jacob shook my hand, and I noticed Jonah was bouncing expectantly, staring at his parents for permission. "Nice to meet you, Matthew. Yes, Jonah, you can go see Uncle Daniel now." I distantly remembered Lion mentioning that Jacob was American, and he sounded it. He sounded a bit Southern, with wide vowels and muted consonants.

Jonah grinned, darting to the kitchen. I heard Lion yell in exaggerated surprise when he got there, and laughter followed. That was nice.

I was also immensely grateful when I realized that Lion hadn't revealed my real name. I followed them into the living room, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease.

"Did I hear my favorite nephew?" Bear shouted from the hallway, and I got there just in time to see Jonah wriggle down from his spot on Tiger's hip (which was utterly disconcerting) and run straight into Bear, who'd crouched down to meet him.

"Uncle Henry!" Jonah yelled as he all but tackled Bear, who exaggerated the force of Jonah's body-slam with an _oomph_, falling backwards.

"Man, kiddo, you're sprouting like a weed! You're not eating fertilizer, are you?" Bear asked, his face tight in mock seriousness, earning a giggle from the kid.

"No, that's bad for you," Jonah explained. "You shouldn't do that."

"You're right, you shouldn't," Bear confirmed, picking the kid up under his arms and rising, hefting him onto his shoulders with a bit of struggling. "Man, in a couple years, I won't be able to do this anymore. You're getting big!"

I couldn't help but smile at the sight, and at Jacob and Angelica greeting Lion, whose smile was absolutely beaming. After the conversation we'd had last week, I was glad to see him happy.

I tried to stay out of the way as they exchanged pleasantries and made small-talk, slipping through the crowded flat as quietly as I could. I was sitting on the couch drinking coffee and watching the muted news when Jonah bounced up to me, apparently having escaped the throng of adults in the kitchen, and shimmied up onto the couch beside me.

He stared up at me, and I shifted a little awkwardly at the child's honest, innocent gaze, which was surprising straightforward. "What's your name?"

"I'm Matthew," I said, smiling. "You're Jonah?"

"Mm-hm," he said, sitting cross-legged on the cushion beside me. "Are you a soldier with Uncle Danny?"

"Yeah, I am," I confirmed, setting my coffee down. I supposed I could talk to the kid for a while. It sounded like everyone else was talking about sports and financials, so I could understand his boredom.

"That's cool. Do you shoot people?"

I blinked, reminding myself that it was an innocent question from a kid who didn't know any better, and shifted. "Well…sometimes I need to, to keep us safe, but I don't like to."

Jonah nodded, looking oddly pensive for such a young kid. "That's good. I want you to keep Uncle Danny and Uncle Sam and Uncle Henry safe."

I had to laugh quietly. He seemed like a good kid. "I'll do my best, Jonah."

"Pinky promise!"

I had to admit, the kid was adorable. I didn't feel so tense, now. "Sure."

He surprised me by performing the familiar gesture, then saying, "I promise not to tell a lie, or I'll swallow a thousand needles!"

I blinked. "Uh…"

"It's a Japanese pinky promise! Uncle Sam taught it to me."

"Oh," I said, glad for the clarification. I spoke the language, but I wasn't familiar with all the customs. "Well, I definitely don't want to swallow any needles, so I'll do my best."

He looked at me for a second, then nodded to himself, as if in approval. "Okay. Come play with me."

He grabbed my hand, dragging me forward off the couch and onto the ground, rummaging around in his Pingu rucksack. "Okay. What do you want to play?" I figured I'd much rather spend my time with a little kid who didn't ask questions than the adults, though I had a feeling Jacob and Angelica weren't the type to pry.

"Go Fish," he said resolutely, putting a sealed deck of cards on the table. He wasn't anywhere near tall enough to see over the edge of the glass table sitting down, so he knelt, leaning over the table with his elbows and looking at me expectantly. "I can't shuffle."

"Not a problem," I assured, taking solace in the relative peace of the empty living room and the comforting chatter from the kitchen. As with the kitchen earlier, the normalcy was really, really nice after everything. I'd had a lot weighing on my mind—the imminent arrival of K-Unit, Lion's and my deal, my upcoming therapy sessions, and the heavy feeling of some impending doom…it was very, very nice to just settle down and play a card game with a little kid who was still innocent to the dangers of the world.

I wondered when I'd lost that innocence.

I wondered when he'd lose his.

"I figured I'd come rescue you, but it looks like you're doing fine," I heard Angelica's voice in the doorway, and she came and sat down beside us, holding a glass of wine. I supposed she was alright with drinking, unlike Lion. She smiled at me. "Thanks for hanging out with him."

"It's not a problem," I assured, feeling a little awkward, but not nervous, like before. "He's a good card player."

"I beat him twice!" Jonah said proudly. It was hard to let someone win at go fish, but by God, I'd tried my best, and it paid off.

"Did you really?" Angelica said, eyes wide in excitement and pride. "Good for you, little man! Who's winning now?"

"I am, but I have no doubt he'll beat me soon," I said seriously, gazing at Jonah's stacked books.

She chuckled lightly, sitting down beside her son. "Jonah, I think Daddy wants to talk to you with your uncles. Wanna run into the kitchen?"

Jonah looked concerned, glancing suspiciously at me. "Are you going to peek at my cards?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," I assured him.

"I'll keep your cards safe," she whispered seriously, kissing his temple as he reluctantly released his cards, giving them to his mother.

"Daddy!" He shouted running into the kitchen. "I beat Matthew at Go Fish!"

I heard several exclamations of surprise and approval, and had to smile.

"He's a good kid," I said as Angelica picked up her son's cards, studying them. I didn't have anything else to say to start a conversation.

She smiled, eyes sparkling. "Thank you. He's a little terror, but he's precious."

I smiled down, unsure of how to respond. "Any twos?" I asked, half-joking.

"Go fish," she said, settling down with her hand. "I did want to talk to you."

I sat up a little straighter, my hand stilling over the pawn before I selected a card. A Queen. "What about?"

"Any Queens?" She asked first. Damn. I handed it over, and she smirked a little at my thin scowl. "Well, Daniel tells me a lot. We're…we're pretty close, you know. We had to be."

I nodded. I assumed she knew what Lion had told me. I wasn't sure how much she knew about me, though.

"I wanted to say thank you," she admitted, smiling slightly. "He told me about that…that first mission. A bit, anyways. He can't tell me much, obviously, because of the confidentiality, but…he told me enough. Thanks for protecting them."

I hesitated, caught off guard by her honesty and by her words, and nodded slightly. "Um…of course. I…I mean, I was just doing my job."

She smirked. "It's more than that, honey. And I'm indebted to you." She glanced at the kitchen, nebulas in her eyes as they shone under the sunlight streaming in. "All three of them are…are very important to me. We never had much of a family, Daniel and me. When he met them…well." She shrugged, eyes far away. "It was like we'd gained two brothers. Three, in Elliot."

My heart fell a little. I felt bad for them. Elliot's loss seemed to run a lot deeper in this little family than I first thought.

"I'm sorry," I said, putting my cards down. I had a feeling she wasn't much up for the game anymore.

She gave me a smile, but it was a little sad. "It's fine, sweetie. It was a while ago. Besides, you haven't had a good run of it either, I've heard."

I faltered, eyes widening in delayed panic, and she said quickly, "I don't know any specifics. Daniel just said that you'd…you'd been through a lot. That's all."

The panic receded like an ebbing tide, but it still left an uncomfortable buzz in my blood. "…oh."

She smiled again. She did that a lot, smiled. They were all different, though. She had Lion's eyes, even though the color was different. Their eyes were expressive enough to unsettle me sometimes. "I'm sorry. I should've led with that."

"No, it's fine," I said quickly. "Um…was…was there anything else?"

She nodded, glancing at the door before continuing over the chatter from the kitchen. "He told me about your deal." She reached across the table, taking my hand in hers, and looked at me with honest eyes tha reminded me of her son. "Thank you. It means very, very much to me that you're willing to help him, and…he didn't want to tell Sam or Henry just yet, so I'm glad someone knows."

She grinned, laughing a little, and said, "For as selfless and kind as he is, he's still a stupid man, sometimes, and he doesn't like accepting help, or asking for it. I think…I think he feels more comfortable with you, since you haven't known him as long, if that makes sense. You can't…you know, you don't know everything, so he can tell you a little more."

I nodded along as she spoke, completely understanding her reasoning. "That makes sense." I shrugged, glancing away. She was still holding my hand. "I…I suppose I feel the same. Lion's been…really awesome, even though I have to be…kind of secretive, and I'm glad to help."

Angelica smiled, squeezing my hand before letting go. "I'm glad you can help each other. Thank you, Matthew. Truly."

I smiled. I think, besides my little smile for Jonah, it was the first genuine one of the day. "I…I appreciate you telling me all that."

"Hey, what's with the whispering?" Jacob asked, ambling into the living room with an easy smile and Jonah on his hip, followed by Bear and Tiger. "You plotting against us?"

"Yes," Angelica said, winking at her husband. "We're going to Vegas to put our excellent go-fish skills to use."

"What's in Vegas?" Jonah asked, scooting over from his father to settle on Tiger's lap. My brain was still loading the image, because I never, ever thought I'd see Tiger so comfortable to be holding a child. Ever.

"I sincerely hope you never find out, little man," Angelica said, laughing. "Daniel, when's lunch?"

"Geez, you're vultures, all of you," Lion shouted from the kitchen. "Jag, come here and help me. You're the only one who hasn't scavenged for scraps yet."

I obliged with a laugh, giving Jonah a high-five as I passed. "What's up?"

"Could you stir this until it reduces?" He said, moving from in front of the stove to check on the roast, cooling on the counter. I glanced into the pot. It was some kind of roux, and it smelled bloody _amazing_.

"I didn't know you were Gordon Ramsey in your free time," I admitted, stirring idly as I watched him work.

He laughed a little, looking tired, but happy. "I've always had a knack for it, I guess. It was interesting to see what variations we could make with pasta and hot dogs. Kind of a staple in our house."

I smiled, remembering Jack's atrocious cooking skills and her inability to boil water without setting off the smoke alarm. "Ours was macaroni and cheese and hamburger meat. We got creative."

Lion laughed. "Your uncle couldn't cook either?"

I faltered, and the stirring slowed until I remembered what I was supposed to be doing. Vibrant red hair and flames filled my vision, and I blinked quickly. "My uncle could. He was good at it."

I didn't elaborate, and God bless Lion, he didn't ask me to.

…

Lunch was a hectic affair. The kitchen table was far too small for the seven of us, so we piled into the living room. Lion, Angelica, and Jacob sat squashed on the couch, Tiger and Bear in the armchairs, and Jonah sat on the floor, eating off the glass table. At his insistence, I joined him.

Lion was an _awesome_ cook. The roast was rich and tender, and the potatoes were just the right golden brown, and the vegetables were tender and seasoned. I was secretly proud that I'd helped make them. Just a bit.

That was horribly childish, but nobody else had to know.

I was fine just listening to the banter and conversation weave around me. I listened and laughed, and I'd been doing so much talking recently that it felt very nice to just…slow down. To slow down and let the world move around me without racing to catch up with it for once. We spent a good portion of the late morning and early afternoon sitting in the living room talking, long after the plates were empty and the food was packaged in the fridge.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Bear said during a lull in the conversation, jumping up. "I got you something, Jonah."

Jonah's eyes burst with stars, and Angelica managed an expression both fond and exasperated. "You spoil him, Henry."

"I'm allowed to, he's my only nephew" Bear shot back, returning from his room with one of the shopping bags he'd brought in earlier. "That's for you."

Jonah hopped off the couch with a sharp "Thank you!" and put his arms around the large bag, toppling to his bum on the rug to open it. He fished around in the tissue paper and eventually emerged with a brand new football.

I had to smile at his excitement. I missed footie.

"Thank you, Uncle Henry!" He shouted, giving Bear a big hug before marveling at the gift. "Can we take it to the park? Please please please?"

"Ask your parents, not me," Bear said, nodding towards Angelica and Jacob.

"Mummy, Daddy, can I please go to the park with Uncle Henry?" He asked, eyes wide and pleading.

Angelica laughed, tousling her son's hair. "Of course, but only for a little while, alright?"

"Can Matthew come?"

I blinked, glancing at the kid in surprise. I didn't think I'd made _that_ much of an impression.

"Why don't you ask Matthew?" Jacob suggested.

Jonah looked at me with wide, round eyes, and I was unfortunately hooked before the kid even said a word. "Matthew, will you come to the park to play football with me and Uncle Henry?"

Tiger nudged my shoulder with his socked foot, and I sent him a glare, sighing. "Sure, Jonah."

The kid beamed. Well, that was worth it, at least.

The little park was only a block down the road. Bear let Henry ride on his shoulders, holding his football on top of Bear's head. I was glad I'd grabbed a windbreaker before we'd gone; it was getting chillier as the sun set. There weren't many people around; there were a couple families picnicking in the shade on the other side of the park, and an old man bundled in a coat on a bench, but that was it.

Bear hefted Henry off of his shoulders and onto the grass, where he dropped the ball and clumsily kicked it to Bear, stumbling. He used the toe of his shoe.

Bear sent it to me next, and Jonah giggled as he stumbled, too, exaggerating. I smiled a little, kicking it back to Jonah with the inside of my foot, the familiar footie motions taking me back to a much happier, much simpler time. I forgot how much I loved football.

"Did you used to play?" Bear asked, catching the ball that Jonah kicked at him. "You're passing like a pro."

I smiled as Jonah gave the ball a mighty kick, sending Bear staggering backwards to catch it before it went into the road. "I played for a few years, yeah. I miss it."

"Well, it shows," he said with a grin. "Jonah! Let's play you and me against Matthew!"

I laughed as Jonah's eyes got wide, and he bounced up and down at the prospect. "Yeah, yeah!"

We managed to find some long sticks that we set up about a meter and a half, maybe ten meters away from each other, which would be our goals. Bear made a big deal about going over the rules and regulations, but Jonah was enraptured by every word. He really liked football.

We played for about ten minutes before I felt myself tiring, my limbs falling heavy with fatigue. I supposed while I was a lot better, and able to do everyday tasks and walk around with ease, exercise like this, even light, was still not a great idea.

I said as much to Bear. "Are you okay?" He asked quickly, stopping the ball with his foot.

"Yeah, I'm just going to sit on the bench," I said, sitting on the bench on the side of the field, still quite close to Bear and Jonah. "Carry on. I'll referee."

Jonah had that pensive look again. "Why're you tired?"

I smiled. "I got hurt a few weeks ago, and I'm still trying to get better. Sometimes I get tired. I'm okay."

Jonah narrowed his eyes with the sharpness of a suspicious schoolteacher, but eventually let the matter drop. "Okay."

It was nice to sit in the cool air and watch the tranquil scene. Bear was a great uncle. I figured he would be, with his bubbly personality and all the time he spent at the youth center, but it was interesting to see it in action.

Fifteen minutes later or so, Bear jogged over. "I'm gonna go grab him an ice cream from the truck down the street," he said, and I turned in the direction he was looking to see a white ice cream truck, a few kids gathered around it. I guessed not even the cold could deter the kids. "Watch him, okay? You want anything?"

"I'm good," I assured, glancing at him as he jogged to the truck, fishing some notes out of his pocket. I glanced back at Jonah. There wasn't anyone around, really; the picnicking families had since packed up and departed. Jonah was working on his dribbling with the concentration of a bomb technician, kicking the ball up and down the makeshift court.

I glanced back at Bear. He was a few kids deep, from what I could see. He'd be a couple minutes. I had to grin at the sight of Bear, with his tall, lanky frame, towering over the toddlers waiting in line with their parents.

I looked back at Jonah, and almost had a heart attack.

I'd always been somewhat skeptical when I saw a kidnapping on the news from a park, or a playground, and the parent claimed to have only been looking away for a second. It always seemed so unrealistic to me. How could ten seconds of inattention possibly lead to a missing child? There must have been something more going on.

I regretted that judgment now. I hadn't been looking away more than five or six seconds, but that was enough time for the man I'd seen earlier on the park bench to amble up to Jonah, and he was now reaching for his arm. Ten more seconds, he could have spirited him away, and I wouldn't have known.

Jonah's face was twisted in confused fear as he clutched his football. The man's face was old and haggard, but he was large enough, and he towered over the boy. His eyes were dark.

I leapt from my seat, fatigue forgotten, and practically flew to his side.

The man's hand had encircled Jonah's bicep, and Jonah had started to yell out when I skidded to a stop beside them. Self-defense techniques and tricks from my martial arts training filled my mind, and the man barely had time to blink before I'd grabbed his thumb and twisted his hand away from Jonah's arm, pushing the boy firmly behind me.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" I growled, feeling protective hackles rise as Jonah began sniffling behind me.

I still had the man's thumb in my hand, and I wasn't planning on letting go anytime soon. He looked like a pathetic drunk you'd see on the street or in a shadowed alley.

"What the hell—le'me _go_," the man said, eyes narrowed in clumsy anger. I assumed he was buzzed, at least. "Bloody bugger. I'm tryin' ta meet ma grandson. Move, ya bloody prat. Who the hell're you?"

The words slammed into me, and I froze for a brief second, the man's thumb slipping from my lax grip. He cradled the injured hand to his chest, murder in his eyes.

The words finally made sense, and I felt my blood begin to simmer, and smoke, and boil.

I'd had plenty reasons to be angry. Angry with the world, with MI6, with Blunt, with Ian, with my parents. With myself. I'd won some awards for angry outbursts when no one was looking.

I didn't think I'd ever been _quite_ this angry.

"Jonah," I said, realizing that my voice had dropped dangerously low, and my posture had become poised to strike, should the need arise. "Turn around. Do you see Bear? By the ice cream truck?"

I didn't turn around, instead holding the older man's eyes. He was perhaps in his fifties, with graying hair and a sloppy beard. He was wearing baggy, dirty clothes, and he was undoubtedly a little drunk. Despite that, he was almost as big as Lion was now. He wasn't nearly as muscled, but his girth was impressive, and I had no doubt without my training, I'd lose the fight quickly.

As it was, I was tired. But the rage in my blood more than made up for it.

I heard Jonah give a quiet affirmative.

"Go to him. Run and don't stop until you get there."

I heard him hesitate, his feet shuffling in the crimson leaves. "But—"

"_Now_."

I heard him whimper, and run. I didn't want to scare the poor kid, but I needed him out of here.

"Oi, wha'dya think you're doin?" The man asked, buzzed clumsiness slipping into tight anger as he tried to storm past me, but I put myself in his path, glowering up at him. If looks could kill, this man would be burning in hell.

"You're not going to touch him, you bastard," I growled. "You're a pathetic excuse for a human being, you know that?"

I risked a glance behind me, pleased to see that Jonah had reached Bear, football in hand, and Bear was crouched down, holding the boy's shoulders.

Good. He was safe.

I turned back around just in time to see the fist hit my nose.

It wasn't particularly hard, or damaging. It was sloppy and off-kilter, but it was enough to stun me. I reeled back, hands flying to my nose in surprise as reflexive tears flooded my eyes, blinking rapidly and cursing.

I saw, out of the corner of my eye, him trying to scurry past me, towards Jonah.

Oh, bloody hell. He'd struck first. All bets were off.

As he staggered past me, I let my training take over. I let my instincts take over. I let my _rage_ take over.

First, I swung my fist around and hit him in the face, like he'd done me, but I was trained. It was a much better, much more damaging, hit. He staggered back, shouting, and I moved up beside him.

I grabbed his left arm, using his forward momentum to twist it up and kick his knee out, wrenching his shoulder up as he collapsed to his knees, yelling in pain. He grabbed for me with his free hand, but I shoved my knee into his back, and he toppled face-first into the leaves, spluttering in the dirt.

I pinned his free wrist to the ground with my foot, sitting on his back. Without the leverage of his arms of legs, and with his shoulder almost dislocated, he couldn't gather the momentum to flip me off even if he wanted.

"Get—get _offa me_," he yelled, his feet thunking uselessly against the grass. People were staring, now, the few that were around. "You—_mother_—"

"No, you shut up and listen to me, you bastard," I growled, twisting his arm harder as red bathed my vision, listening to him cry out in pain. "You don't have a single right to Jonah. You don't have a single right to Lio—to Daniel, or Angelica. You're a pathetic, _pitiful_ son of a bitch who couldn't even appreciate the kids he was given, so you have _absolutely no right_ to a relationship with Jonah.

"Daniel is ten times the man you are, and I hope one day you realize that, and then realize that you can take absolutely no credit for it. He dragged himself out from under your thumb and became a soldier with his own unit and his own family. And Angelica got married and had an amazing kid and is _happy_ despite all the shit you put them through."

I paused, knowing that I was dangerously close to losing control. I was always very careful to keep my emotions in check, because I knew that if I snapped, I had the training and ability to do someone serious harm, but my blinders were off now. It seemed like years of repressed rage and anger and _hurt _that I couldn't avenge for myself was pouring out as I tried to avenge my friend and his sister and their stolen childhood. This was the man who—who made those awful marks on Lion's chest and back, and who offered Angelica, that bright, smiling woman with enough happiness to outshine the sun, to his poker buddies for fun.

I didn't even have the presence of mind to be scared of myself.

"If I wanted to, I could break your arm like this," I said quietly, putting just a bit more pressure on his shoulder to prove my point, listening to the pathetic whine that left his mouth. "Or I could dislocate your elbow, or your shoulder. Do you want that? Did you ever do that to your kids? How do you think it felt, huh?"

I secured my grip on his wrist and grabbed the back of his neck, my mind blazing with hellfire. "I could kill you in this position. If I wanted to. How many times did you hurt them like this? Did you pin them down and terrify them and hurt them, huh? Tell me why I shouldn't do the same to you."

The man was a sobbing mess, now, but I barely registered it. I was still raging and boiling and erupting with volcanic force, and I couldn't be stopped anymore. I couldn't—

"_ALEX_!"

I distantly realized, belatedly, that someone had been calling my name for a long time.

I looked up, startled, and saw Bear staring at me. His eyes were wide, and…and afraid.

And Jonah was in his arms, sobbing with his face pressed against Bear's shoulder, his new football forgotten at his feet.

I blinked, gasping a little as I came back to myself, looking at the man writhing beneath me, crying out in pain. Hesitantly, I let go of his arms and stumbled backwards, off of him, sitting on the ground as I caught my breath. He rolled over, yelling in pain as he clutched him arm to his chest.

I blinked again, my face throbbing, and wiped a sleeve under my nose. It came away bloody, and I registered the taste of pennies in my mouth. I spit to the side, shakily, and stood. I wobbled. I'd been playing football, and then this, and I was already tired this morning. The crashing adrenaline didn't help matters. I quickly sat back down.

"Al—Jag?" Bear asked carefully, and I looked at him with wide, blank eyes, realizing how close I'd come to seriously injuring the man. He deserved it. He absolutely deserved it.

But I didn't…I didn't want to be that person. The ruthless soldier that took out his anger on those who couldn't fight back, no matter their crimes. The person MI6 wanted me to be. The person SCORPIA had tried to turn me into.

"Take…take Jonah to his parents," I said, still breathing heavily. "And…and call the police."

For once in my life, though, fate was on my side. Apparently a bystander who'd seen the man approach Jonah and had seen me confront the man had called the police for us, and two constables jogged up quickly from the road opposite the park, where their car was parked.

"What's happened here?" One of them asked, crouching beside me as I shook under the weight of what I'd threatened to do and what I'd almost done and the fear in Jonah's body language and Bear's eyes.

I'd scared him. My friend, and my friend's nephew. I'd scared them.

"He—" I started, nodding at the man on the ground, who was being checked over by the other officer. "He, uh…he tried to grab Jonah," I said quietly, still in shock. I felt myself going cold. The adrenaline crash and the shock of what I'd done and threatened and the fatigue was all weighing on me, and my nose was still bleeding. "I…"

The constable could obviously see I was out of it, and her eyes were narrowed in concern. "Okay, alright. Just calm down, lad, everything's fine now."

But it wasn't, because I'd scared him. I'd scared Bear. I'd finally found people worth keeping around, worth compromising myself and my safety for, and now…now—

He'd tell Lion and Tiger. He'd tell them what I'd done. How I'd almost _snapped_ and broken a defenseless man's arm. No matter what he'd done, I—that was—

"I'd like…I'd like to go," I said quickly. I looked up and saw Bear talking quickly on the phone, Jonah still secure in his arms. He wasn't looking at me, but I wasn't sure if it was deliberate or not. "Can I?"

"I'm afraid not, until we get a better picture of what happened," she said apologetically, putting a hand on my shoulder. I didn't see her move to do so, and I jerked violently under the touch, completely on edge. Her eyes darkened at the movement.

I didn't want to scare her, too. I didn't—I didn't want to scare anybody.

"I didn't…I didn't mean—" I started, watching as the old man was handcuffed and made to sit up by the other constable. His arms were in front of him, I supposed to keep from further straining his shoulder.

"I need you to calm down, love," she said gently, looking quite worried now. She turned to Bear. "Do you know him? Is this Jonah?"

Bear's eyes were blazing. He was angry with me. I was sure. He was angry because I'd gone and scared Jonah, and him, and I'd almost—I'd almost—

"Yeah, the bastard over there is a convicted child abuser," he spat, venom in his words as he cupped the back of Jonah's head. "Not of Jonah, but of his mother, and my friend. They're coming down now; they live in the apartment building down the street."

They're coming down now.

No, I—I didn't want them to—I didn't want them to know. Bear knew. That was bad enough. And Jonah knew, and he was terrified. I'd—I'd almost…

"Please, can I go?" I asked, swiping a trembling hand beneath my nose. It wasn't stopping. Why wasn't it stopping?

"No, love, I'm sorry," she said. "Listen, I need you to take deep breaths, alright?"

I heard Bear's quiet words to Jonah, who sat down and hugged his ball to his chest, and suddenly Bear was switching places with the female constable, crouching quietly and slowly, eyes worried. Or afraid. I couldn't tell. I didn't want to know.

"Alex," he said quietly. "Can I touch you?"

I shook my head, staring blankly at the man that I'd almost—

This was different. I'd killed before, of course I had, I'd had to. But it had been in self-defense, or in the heat of battle, or a complete accident. This…this reminded me of shooting Julius Grief as he lay in the street in a pool of his own blood. He'd had his gun raised at me, but I'd been waiting for it. Waiting for an excuse to justify the murder of the son of a bitch who'd stolen my best friend and guardian and—

And was I doing the same thing here? Using his crimes as an excuse to murder him, because he'd so badly hurt one of the only people I gave a damn about anymore?

"Alex."

I blinked and gasped again, realizing again where I was and what was happening. Bear's hand was hovering above my shoulder, and he looked very, very scared. I couldn't tell if it was of me or for me.

"I'm—I'm sorry," I stammered, blinking rapidly, absently swiping a hand under my nose. "I—"

"No, oi, no, do _not_ be sorry," Bear said, eyes glinting like steel under the sun, and I flinched. He was mad. He was angry with me. I wasn't allowed to be sorry, because every movement had been intentional, and—

"If you hadn't done it, I might have," Bear said, finally, slowly, settling his hand on my shoulder. "I need you to _breathe_, Alex. You're panicking."

Of bloody course I was panicking. I knew that.

Still, I didn't want to do anything else wrong, so I listened, and tried to take a deep breath. My limbs were shuddering as I sat hunched and folded on the ground, my lungs constricting with lingering panic.

I heard a cry of alarm, and it sounded like Angelica. I looked up to see her sweeping Jonah into her arms, Jacob enveloping them both to his chest, face twisted in rage and hatred and worry.

Lion and Tiger were right behind them. Lion went to Jonah, sweeping a hand through the sobbing child's hair, face pinched in uncharacteristic terror until he was sure that Jonah was unhurt. His eyes scanned the park before landing on his father, who was being questioned by the constable.

I didn't ever want to see Lion look like that ever again.

Tiger had to physically restrain his friend from rushing his father, and eventually Bear had to leave me and go help. Lion was spitting insults from every culture he could get his mind around, and I was fairly sure I'd never even heard some of those words before.

I looked at the old man, who was sitting placidly on the ground, swaying back and forth. He kept his arm tucked tightly against his chest, as much as he could with the cuffs, and his face was bleeding. I thought it might have been from his mouth.

He looked at his son and scoffed. "Quit yer whinin', boy. Yer bloody guard dog almos' broke m'arm. M'suing."

At those words, Lion, though still enraged, glanced at me. It was as if he'd seen me there for the first time, understandably.

He shook off Tiger's and Bear's hands and jogged to me, crouching down. He looked worried.

I didn't want him to know. He'd be angry, like Bear, and I'd—

Oh, my God. Would I have to leave?

"Jag?" He said, worried and angry all at once. He reached for me, I suppose to take my chin and look at my face, but I flinched back, and he stilled.

"It's just me," he said quietly. "I won't hurt you. I'm sorry."

Why wasn't he yelling at me? I'd almost become the thing SCORPIA wanted. I'd almost—I'd thought about killing a man in cold blood.

It was a line I'd never crossed, and I couldn't—I couldn't—

"I think he's in shock," Bear said, and he was standing beside me now. "I don't know why, though. I think he was only hit once."

I was in shock. At myself. At what I'd almost done.

I thought I'd left that murderous, vengeful part of my behind when I'd left SCORPIA. I thought I'd gotten the lingering shreds out of my system when I'd murdered Julius Grief.

I was terrified, because I'd scared Bear, and Jonah, and most of all, myself.

…

"Finally," Bear muttered, taking the last tissue away from my nose. "Took its bloody time to clot."

I blinked, the painful buzz in my sinuses overshadowed by the lingering numbness. I was more in control of myself now, at least, enough to know that even after what I'd done, I'd still managed to make one hell of a scene. I didn't want to talk about it, I didn't want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to go to sleep.

"Are you feeling better?" Tiger asked from the doorway of Elliot's room, eyes drawn together in unusually expressive worry.

I nodded, still embarrassed and scared. Of myself and of their anger. "Yes. Sorry."

I listened intently. I could hear Lion and Angelica and Jacob talking quietly in the living room. They'd put Jonah down in Lion's room to sleep while we figured everything out. The events had exhausted him.

He'd been scared of me. So had Bear.

"Quit apologizing," Bear said pointedly, putting the last tissue in the rubbish bin, where a decent collection of bloody tissues had piled up. "You were protecting Jonah."

No. No, I'd gone far beyond protecting Jonah. Protecting Jonah would have been hitting him once, enough to knock him down for a little while, and calling the police. I'd gone further.

I didn't say as much, but I was sure my silence was enough. I fidgeted, messing with the blanket in front of me with nervous hands. I didn't want to look at them.

"Jag." Bear's voice. Quiet and insistent. "Talk to me."

I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut. "I scared you."

There was a second of silence, and my heart was pounding, and like I'd told Lion, it felt like the words brought the earth to a screeching halt. Of course, it didn't, and I knew that. But the pressure of fear felt like it.

"What?"

I sighed, my nose throbbing at the action. I glanced at Bear, hating myself for how timid I felt right now. I felt like a child. I wasn't supposed to be a child anymore. "I scared you. And Jonah. I was—I almost broke his arm, Bear. I told him—"

I choked on the words, sliding my fingers up through my hair in an effort to maintain some semblance of control. I put my face down towards the comforter, shame and fear pushing down on my shoulders as I slumped. "I threatened to kill him. I scared you. I saw your eyes, Bear. When you—when I finally—woke up, I guess, you…you looked bloody terrified."

I took a breath, and it was shaky and broken. "I didn't mean to. To scare you. I really didn't. I never meant to go that far, I was just—just mad, and worried, and—and…"

"No, no, nononono," Bear said quickly, sounding flustered. He put a hand on my back as I grasped my hair, shaking in front of him. "Aw, Jag, no, mate. No, I wasn't afraid of you. Come on. I—the situation got to me, man. I never expected to meet Lion's father, and definitely not like that. And Jonah was crying, and you were bleeding, and—I was worried about you, Jaguar. You weren't responding to me. I wasn't afraid of you, kid."

"You should've been," I said quietly, unwilling to accept his words just yet. "I could've done it, and I'm—I'm so afraid that I might have, if you hadn't woken me up. I—I just…"

"Oi," Tiger said, and he'd come to stand at the end of the bed. His eyes were dark and intense, and I flinched as I met them. He seemed to realize it, and relaxed a little. "Seriously. You were protecting Jonah, and Bear, too. You got a little carried away, but you didn't do anything. Nothing happened that can't be fixed. You need to realize that."

_But it could have_, a small voice whispered in my head.

"What're you so afraid of?" Bear asked, his hand still solid on my back, keeping my grounded to the moment.

I took a shaky breath. "I—I…I was…" I stopped. This was big. This was a big thing to reveal. This would…it would set them off, maybe. It would make them angry if they weren't already. They wouldn't be able to put up with me after this. I wouldn't.

Maybe I deserved it.

"I was…with a group for a while," I started slowly. "And they were very, very horrible people, but I thought…I thought they could help me. I was told a lot of lies and a lot of half-truths, and…and I really thought they could help me. And they taught me how to…how to kill. How to hurt. They wanted to turn me into…into something I never wanted to be, and…I've avoided it. I've killed people, I have, but it's always…self-defense. I never try. I never wanted to. That's why I can't shoot human targets. It reminds me of them, of their…training. And…"

I shuddered, and I couldn't look at them, nearly buried by the shame and guilt surrounding me. "And I came really close today, to becoming what they wanted me to be, and it…it really scared me."

Bear's hand was very still against my back. But it was still there, at least.

My face was buried in my arms, turned resolutely towards the comforter, and I refused to look at them and see the accusation and the distrust and…and the fear. I waited. And I waited. And I tensed as something rustled and I waited.

"Good."

That…wasn't what I was waiting for.

"Huh?" That was Bear. Tiger had said that it was good. Bear had sounded as clueless as I felt.

I risked a glance up at Tiger through suspicious eyes, and his face wasn't…it wasn't angry, but it's not blank, either. It's…thoughtful. "I said, good. It's good that it scared you. It means that's not you, Jaguar, and the fact that you're conscious of that means that you can keep from becoming that."

Tiger came around towards me, and I tried very hard not to flinch. I needn't have worried. He just settled a hand on my head and gave me a half-smile, tousling my hair and squeezing the back of my neck in reassurance. "You couldn't be a killer if you tried, brat." He thunked my chest lightly with his knuckles. "It's not in you. I promise."

I could only stare up at him for a second, finally forcing myself to look down as my throat bobbed. I sniffed. It hurt.

"You sure?" I asked quietly.

"Positive." Immediate. No hesitation.

"See? No reason to be scared," Bear said, squeezing my shoulder before finally letting go. "I'm not scared, and Tiger's not scared. I don't even think Jonah was scared. Well, not of you."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't deserve them. I didn't deserve them at all. Not a bit. They were—they were so good, and so _kind_, and supportive, and I did not deserve them at all. They were far, far too good for me.

Luckily, I was saved from having to answer when Lion appeared in the doorway, looking exhausted. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Bear assured, grabbing the extra gauze from the counter. He'd had to bandage my knuckles. Well, I'd told him to leave it, but he'd insisted. "Finally got the bleeding to stop. Set some things straight." He thumped my shoulder, and I gave an acknowledging grunt.

Lion nodded. "Good. Can I have a minute?"

Oh, shit. Here it comes.

Bear and Tiger left, and Lion sat down on the edge of the bed. "You alright?"

I nodded. "Just bruised, nothing broken."

He nodded thoughtfully, eyes far away. I couldn't even imagine the toll this day must have taken for him. And he'd been so excited. I was pissed all over again. "Good."

I fidgeted. "Are you okay?"

Lion smiled at nothing, small and thin. "I think so. I will be, anyhow." He paused. "Angie talked to me earlier, in the kitchen. Apparently he's been following them around. She's been trying to get a restraining order, and…she never thought he'd follow them across the country, or approach him."

I nodded, eyes furrowed in both anger and concern. "I'm sorry. That sounds awful."

He shrugged. "I'm just glad everything's alright, really. I was…I was so worried about Jonah, and you, honestly, that…I don't think it's hit me yet."

I glanced at him, unsure of what to say. "Well…when it does…let me know if I can do anything."

Lion smiled genuinely, then, chuckling under his breath. "Well, I think you've done plenty, Jag. I've got quite the protector."

I forced a smile.

"I didn't mean to listen in, but…I heard what you told Bear and Tiger."

Ah. At least I didn't have to say it twice. "…oh."

"I'm a pretty good judge of character," he said resolutely. "And I don't just let anyone around my nephew or my sister. You've got nothing to worry about. You're a good kid."

I managed a smile, and it felt a little more real. "Thanks."

It would take a long time for me to believe it, but…well. They'd all reassured me so far. It was…it was better than having to convince myself alone.

"Knock knock," a voice said in the doorway, and I glanced up to see Angelica, Jacob, and a sleepy Jonah nodding off on Jacob's shoulder. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm okay. It's really nothing," I assured them. I assumed a comparison would just freak them out, but compared to some of my other injuries, I could run a marathon and be fine.

Jacob smiled. "I'm glad. We wanted to…to say thank you again, Matthew. We're absolutely indebted to you."

"It's really alright," I said, a little uncomfortable with the sincerity in their eyes.

"No, don't…don't mitigate what you did today. You kept our son safe. Thank you so much, honey," Angelica said from the doorway, tears in her eyes and a grateful smile on her face despite them. "Really."

I could only nod and give her half a smile, unable to tell her that I didn't deserve her thanks. Lion would get mad at me again, and I was far too tired to deal with that.

Jacob whispered something in Jonah's ear, and the sleepy kid perked up quickly, wriggling out of his dad's arms. "Jonah has a question for you," he clarified as Jonah ran up to my bed, clambering up onto the comforter as I scooted over to give him room.

Jonah knelt on the bed beside me, and I sat cross-legged to face him. I was stiff as a board, terrified he'd burst into tears or look scared again or—or something like that. His parents were standing like hawks in the doorway, and Lion was standing behind me. I wasn't sure if they were watching so closely because they didn't trust me or were just wrung out from the day's events.

Jonah fixed me with that stare of his, and I looked up and away after a second under the intense gaze. That's why I missed the little finger poking my nose.

"_Ow_," I said in surprise, holding it as my eyes watered again. I heard Angelica chastise him, and received a quick apology, but he sounded more thoughtful than anything.

I blinked at him, still cupping my nose. I didn't want to take any chances.

Jonah glanced at his parents, and back at me, and scooted forward. He leaned up and whispered into my ear, very quietly, "Are you a superhero?"

I faltered, totally unprepared for the question. "Um…I don't think so. Why do you ask?"

He narrowed his eyes, sitting back in front of me. "Mummy and Daddy and Uncle Danny said you saved me from a bad man."

I glanced at his parents, who were hovering expectantly. They looked tired, and wrung out, but there were smiling, like they knew something I didn't. I heard Lion chuckle.

"I guess so," I said cautiously, slowly lowering my hand. I didn't want him to poke it again, but I didn't want to hold it there all night, either.

He folded his arms across his chest, looking pensive as he pondered my response. "So you _are_ a superhero."

He continued before I could deter him, eyes shining. "You went like—like _whoosh_, and _whapa!_ And then he was just on the ground! And I was really scared because it hurt when he grabbed me, and you sounded scary, but then Uncle Henry said that it was a bad man, so you had to sound scary. And even though he hurt you, you were still awesome. And—and then Uncle Henry said you were Alex, even though you said you were Matthew. And all superheroes have secret names. So you _have_ to be a superhero."

I could see very clearly that he was convinced of this fact, and nothing I could say could change his mind of it. Or if I did, it would disappoint him, and that was the last thing I wanted after today. At least he wasn't scared of me anymore.

I shrugged helplessly, smiling a little. "I guess. If you say so, it must be true, huh?"

Jonah grinned, wide and full, and said, "I knew it, I knew it! You were too awesome not to be!"

I had to laugh a bit, even though my nose hurt. "You've gotta keep it a secret, though. It's my secret identity. I can't have it getting out." Well, that wasn't a lie. "Can I count on you to do that?"

I held my pinky out expectantly, but he completely bypassed the gesture, instead hopping up onto his knees and wrapping his skinny arms around my neck.

Startled, it took me a second to hug him back, and I made sure to do so very, very carefully. I was still a little afraid of myself and my training after today, but Jonah didn't seem to mind.

A strong, little voice said by my ear, "I'll keep your secret, Uncle Matthew. Promise."

I…didn't know what to say to that.

I just closed my eyes and held the precious kid a little tighter, attributing the sudden rush of tears to my throbbing nose.

…

Lion sat down on the edge of my bed, and I sat with my hands in my lap. "Have they left?"

Lion nodded, rolling his shoulders. He looked tired. "Yeah, just now. They said to thank you again."

I shrugged. They'd said so plenty of times.

There were a few seconds of silence before he continued. "I met my goal today. Somehow. Didn't smoke more than five cigs."

I smiled, genuinely pleased with the news. "Good. I'm glad. Especially with how stressful today was."

He laughed a little. "Yeah, definitely."

I shifted, leaning back against my headboard, letting my arms dangle over my knees. "Want to ask something?"

He glanced at the door, ajar, but Tiger and Bear were in the kitchen. I heard the distant clanking of cookware as they finished the dishes. "It's kind of a big one. You can veto."

"Okay," I conceded, shifting a bit.

"Something really freaked you out today," he said quietly, looking worried again. Why the hell would he be worried about me? He was the one whose abusive father had almost taken his nephew. "And I think it's got more to it than what you said."

I shifted, condemning Lion's unusually perceptive nature. I could veto. I could. He'd respect my decision.

I sighed, glancing at the window. I still needed to clean it. "You're going to think it's stupid. _I_ think it's stupid."

Lion smirked. "Kid, after the day we've had, I'm not about to judge anything you say."

I gave him an awkward smile. I supposed he was right.

"I just…I was worried…" I started, unsure of what words to use to accurately convey my fear. "I was worried that when you…found out, that I'd been…you know. Trained to…to hurt people. I was worried you'd ask me to leave."

I glanced away from him, tapping my knees nervously. "I know it's stupid. I haven't even given you rent yet. Which I totally plan to do, I promise. I just…it's not…it's not home, you know? But it's the…the closest thing I have. I really…like it here. And I was…I was worried that you'd think I was…you know. Dangerous. And that you'd ask me to leave."

I stared at the wallpaper, tracing hairline cracks in the display, still fidgeting nervously. It sounded childish and stupid and weak, and I didn't want to hear Lion's reaction. I knew, logically, that it wouldn't be bad. He'd laugh it off, or something. I knew he probably wouldn't ask me to leave. I just…the irrational fear was still there, and it was strong.

"Alex. Look at me." After a second of hesitation, I did. He eyes were narrowed in both disbelief and staunch determination, and I couldn't look away. "You put yourself between my abusive father and my nephew, _after_ he hurt you, and you were willing to do whatever it took to keep him safe. You opened yourself up to me when I _know_ you didn't want to, and I'm grateful for that every day. And you're helping me with one of the most challenging things I've ever done, and it's...it's really been helping.

"You put yourself in front of Bear against a _terrorist_, and you put his well-being above your own in a horrible situation. And you and Tiger have been getting to know each other, and—Tiger _hates_ it when people know he has depression. It took him several months to admit it to us, even after Elliot died. And I know you trusted him with a lot of things in the hospital, and he's kept those things private. He didn't tell Bear or me specifics, just that you had some stuff work through."

Lion paused, leaning forward, his voice strong, and confident, and certain. "It's perfectly fine if this isn't your home yet. I know it's too soon for that. But I promise you, one day…when you're ready…it can be. You're not getting rid of us anytime soon, and I swear on my life, if anyone tries to take you, they're going to have one hell of a fight on their hands."

I folded my hands on top of my knees to keep them from fidgeting any more, and to keep them from shaking. I felt my eyes burn, and swallowed thickly, looking away. "You can't—you can't say that. You don't know everything. You don't—I've done some really bad things, Lion, and I still have secrets. Really big secrets. You haven't even known me for two months."

He nodded. "I know."

"Then…then how—"

"I told you," he said, still honest and earnest and _kind_. "Relationships aren't all about time. They're about what you entrust. And I know you're still opening up, but you've given us a lot, Jag. I'm sure a lot more than you ever planned to. We've given you a lot, too. That's enough."

I didn't cry. It was close, but I didn't. Instead I looked down, at the ceiling, the wall, anywhere, and finally back at him. And he was tired, and I was sure he wanted to go to bed and process the day he'd just had, but instead he was sitting here, comforting me.

"Thank you," I said, and it was small, and broken, but enough.

It wasn't home. Not yet.

But…one day. Maybe.

Maybe it would be.

**A/N: Hey pals. Holy crap. I could've made this, like…three separate chapters. Happy birthday to all of you. Over 10k words!**

**Anyways! Heavy chapter, I know. I also know Alex may have been a little OOC, but you also have to understand that this kid has ****_tons_**** of repressed emotion and trauma, and a lot of that is explosive anger and fear that he keeps sealed pretty tight most of the time. If something like this happened, especially after Lion and Alex's conversation last chapter, and as a result of his SCORPIA training…well. I know if I was Alex, I'd be pretty damn messed up. **

**K-UNIT IS COMING! Not next chapter, but the one after that! That's the one! The one I've gotten so, so, so many questions about! IT'S COMING! **

**Also. Eh-heh. So I've just come to the realization that we're almost 100,000 words in and…four of the main characters haven't even shown up yet. This is…this is gonna be a long one, folks. Maybe 300-400k words. Like. LONG. I hope you'll stick around :)**

**Anyways! Reviews! FFnet is being super weird so I can't see them all or reply to them all, but I went through my emails to do the guest reviews and shoutouts, so I'll get back to the rest of you as soon as I'm able! You're all AMAZING AND INCREDIBLE!**

**Thanks so much: sbayless44, ClarenzaK, RiderKitty, Mae, ZigzagSyzergy, reginamare, otterpineapple06, Padfoot's Marauder, HeroofOlympus24, Dani9513, Charlie, ProcrastiationandCoffee, Em0Wolf, LoveRider, Guest, Band-007, Guest, brit299919, Fangirl all da way, Deeeecode, Guest, Ichigo1217, no-time-to-read, fa6imah.2000, and Beebotwriter!**

**Mae: Oh my goodness, you are so welcome! I'm glad you like it. I think we need more stories that accurately display mental health issues and the healing process, and I'm glad you approve :) and on goodness tell your parents that I say thank you so much for what they're doing, and I sincerely hope everyone stays safe. **

**Reginamare: I KNOW THE CUTENESS! Of course! And I know, the possibilities are endless! XD No worries! I'm a HUGE Supernatural / Avengers fan. What about you?**

**Charlie: Thanks so much! Yeah it's going to be…ridiculous. Seriously XD **

**Em0Wolf: Aw thanks so much! And I know I love them too XD**

**LoveRider: I'm so glad you liked it! I tried to make the therapy session realistic based on my limited experience, so I hope it worked. And hahaha me too dude**

**Guest (Brilliant): Thanks so much! **

**Guest (Yes yes yes!...): Hahahaha me too dude XD Aw thank you so so much!**

**Deeeecode: Thank you so much!**

**Guest (great chapter, thanks so much for updating!): Thanks so much! And I'm so glad, I love Lion :) Omg thank you because I've been trying to be super intentional about character building :D hehehe yeah I'm super diabolical when it comes to suspense XD thanks!**

**…**

**Thanks so, so much, and as always, please let me know what you thought! I love hearing from you! **


	19. Chapter 18

Following Lion's father's arrival and subsequent departure, I was pleased to hear that Angelica had finally gotten a restraining order filed against him, effective immediately and indefinitely, and Lion had followed suit and had one in the works. He'd been right when he said it hadn't hit him yet. The next few days were worrying.

Lion had looked like a ghost, and he'd acted like one, too. His pallor had been consistently bone-white, his skin blotchy with red patches of panic. We couldn't touch him or say his name or sneak up on him without him flinching the slightest bit, then hiding it behind a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Tiger and Bear were obviously worried. Tiger confided in me that he hadn't seen Lion like this since Elliot had died, and that worried me, too. Bear was more subdued, taking extra care not to be too loud, or startling, while he was around.

Lion never came to me at night to ask questions anymore, so I assumed he'd been smoking well above his limit. I couldn't blame him. I could smell it on him whenever he was around. I wondered if Bear and Tiger would pick up on it.

I was all too familiar with the type of fear Lion was feeling, so after a couple days of talking myself up to it, I acted.

"Take a walk with me," I suggested after dinner a few nights after the fiasco. Lion and I were in the kitchen doing dishes. Tiger was taking the rubbish to the street by the flat building, and Bear was in the bathroom.

Lion glanced at me, looking a little better, but still much paler than his normal complexion. "I don't know if I'm up for it tonight, Jag. Feeling kind of tired."

"It'll make you feel better. Promise," I insisted, taking the dishrag from his hand and setting it on the counter, fixing him with a look. "Seriously."

He sighed, clearly too tired to argue, and nodded.

Tiger gave us a questioning look as we left, but I shook my head slightly, telling him not to ask. He didn't.

We walked in silence for a long time. I led the way. I'd familiarized myself with a map of the area when I'd first moved in, just in case, so I knew the Cookham area well enough to wander around. Lion didn't ask where we were going, but I could see his tense shoulders and taut muscles, his movements jerky, like a puppet on broken strings.

"We're almost there," I assured quietly. The streets were dark and mostly deserted, but we passed the occasional couple or stumbling drunk. In those instances, Lion's shoulders snapped back so hard I thought he'd break a bone, but he never stopped walking or slowed down. Never even looked in their direction.

I smiled to myself. A leader to the end.

When we finally got to Cookham Bridge, I leaned over the edge with my chin resting on my crossed forearms, and closed my eyes and listened to the quiet waters lulling beneath us, streetlights and the moonlight reflecting off the glassy surface.

Eventually, Lion came to stand next to me, and I felt him relax the slightest bit. "Did you bring me out here to listen to nature and become one with the wind?"

I smiled a little, but didn't open my eyes. Sarcasm was a step in the right direction. "No. Just listen for a minute. It always calms me down."

He did, and I felt him relax a little more the longer we stayed there. After a few moments, he let out a settling breath, finally leaning over the railing, like I was.

"I've always really liked mythology and symbolism," I started, opening my eyes to look out over the water, listening to the water scraping gently against the banks. "Ian—my uncle—he said it was a silly thing to like. Just stories made up by people who didn't know what was going on. But I've always found it rather interesting."

Even though Lion wouldn't look at me, I knew he was listening. "I spent a long time alone. When I…when I had a really, really bad day, and there was no one there to talk me out of a flashback or a nightmare or a panic attack, I had a system. I had to."

I took a deep breath, face pinching in phantom pain as I remembered the agonizing throb of loneliness from those hellish months. "I always knew where the nearest bridge was. Always. It made me feel better. You know what bridges symbolize?"

Lion shook his head, now eyeing me with distinct worry in his eyes. I knew how it sounded, and I wasn't going to correct him. I'd more than once thought of using the bridges for darker reasons, but that wasn't the point today.

"They symbolize pathways. To heaven, mostly," I said, picking at the rusted iron on the railing. I bit my nails often enough to make it difficult, but the distraction was nice. "Also to hell. But they're also passages that can symbolize rebirth, or evolution. Leaving your old self on the other side and crossing to become better, that kind of thing."

I shrugged, the familiar explanations rolling off my tongue. I'd never really shared the thoughts with anyone before, but Lion needed something, and this would help. It helped me.

"So whenever I have a really bad day, I come to a bridge," I said thoughtfully. "And I remind myself that the symbolism is mostly bullshit."

Lion snorted in surprise, obviously not expecting the abrasive comment, and I smirked a little. "It is. Seriously."

"What makes you say that?" He asked, eyebrow raised, revealing a hint of the easy smile I hadn't see in a few days.

"For all the heroes in the stories, the bridge just…is. It's already been built for them, and all they have to do is cross it. But it's bullshit. Nobody's going to build you a bridge to paradise," I said decidedly, looking out over the water again. "I've never been one for religion, but that's not what I mean. No human being is ever going to be able to give you a single path to a painless future. Maybe after you die, sure, but not during life. Even with all you've done for me, you've given me options, but you'll never be able to erase my past or completely guarantee my future."

Lion was looking thoughtful now, and followed my gaze out to the water. "Well, now I feel hopeless."

I snorted. "No, you're missing my point. I come here to remind myself that I'm the only one who can build a bridge like that. Nobody can do it for me, but at the same time, nobody can stop me from doing it."

I looked at him, hoping I was coming across more lucid than I felt. I felt like an old nutjob, but at least Lion was playing along. "It may seem stupid. Sometimes I think it's stupid, but it helps. Your father…he hurt you in the past, and there's nothing to say you'll never see him again. But…but he doesn't have to stop you from building your bridge. Becoming who you want to be. He can only stop you if you let him."

Lion looked at me for a long moment, and uncomfortable as it was, I held his gaze. The wind swept through my hair, and I blinked, brushing it back and out of my eyes and turning back to the water. "Just a thought. It helps me on bad days. To remind myself that while people from my past are…definitely going to catch up with me at some point, I have options. Even if they suck."

I'd edited it a bit for Lion's sake. I often went to bridges to remind myself that I was making the choice not to jump. That I was making the choice to live, despite everything. Then my mind would turn to the symbolism, and I'd remind myself that I still had a future, however bleak. However hopeless and full of uncertainty.

However, the censored version seemed to work well enough, because Lion didn't say anything for several long moments. It was enough silence that I contemplated sitting down to let him sort his thoughts out. Before I could, he fished around in his pocket, and took out a lighter.

He clicked it three times before the spark finally caught, his face awash in the soft glow. "This was my dad's," he said quietly, his voice tight with painful memories.

I was surprised by the confession. I didn't think he'd want anything of his dad's with him.

"I carry it because I think I…I think I still blame myself for letting it happen for so long," he said. His eyes were narrowed in thought. "I blamed myself for letting him hurt Angie when I wasn't around, I blamed myself for letting him hurt me instead of fighting back, even though I knew it wouldn't do anything. I blamed myself for letting our mom leave. I blamed myself for a lot of things, and I carried this to remind myself of it."

He snapped it shut, and let it rest loosely in his fingers. He looked at me, looked at the bridge, and looked at the water. With a brief second of hesitation that quickly melted into resolve, he wound up his arm, and chucked the lighter into the river.

A distant, tiny splash broke the quiet night, and shattered the tension in Lion's shoulders. In that moment, I saw the friend I hadn't seen in a few days. The leader I desperately wanted to be half of, in time.

"I'm tired of blaming myself for that piece of shit's mistakes."

I smiled, patting his shoulder. "Good."

Like everything in the past few months, it didn't erase the past, and it didn't secure the future, but it was enough.

…

"Where did you put the keys?" Lion yelled, looking utterly exasperated as he waited by the door, duffle bag in hand.

"I swear, they were in my _bloody_ room, and now they're just gone," Tiger growled, tearing the flat apart as I watched from the recliner sipping coffee, somewhat amused.

"Okay, well, you'd better find them fast, or I'm going to miss my plane," Lion said, glancing pointedly at his watch. "Seriously, we don't have time to wait on a locksmith. Bear, would you get a move on?"

Bear stumbled out of his room, laden with luggage, and scowled. "I'm doing my best. Blame my dad. He turned me into a kleptomaniac."

I chuckled, supposing I should get up and help look for the keys before Tiger really got mad. "Where did you go when you first came in with them?"

Tiger stilled, thinking. "The fridge. But I wouldn't have left them in the bloody icebox."

Nevertheless, I went to investigate, listening to the others bicker in the foyer. I opened the fridge and the icebox, unsurprised to find them empty of keys, then searched around the cluttered counters. Despite Tiger's serious nature, he was surprisingly absent-minded. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd set them down here and forgot about it.

"I told you they're not in the icebox," Tiger griped from the doorway, scowling.

"You're right," I conceded, pushing aside the toaster, then the blender, and spotting my prize. I didn't even want to know how they'd ended up back there. I held them up, watching Tiger's eyes widen. I smirked. "You're welcome."

Tiger sighed, snatching the keys. "Bloody comedian," he muttered.

"Have a safe trip," I said from the foyer, watching the three of them heft their bags over their shoulders. It felt very odd to remain in their home alone, especially after everything, but they'd assured me it wasn't a problem. My heart lightened at the knowledge that they trusted me that much—with their things, their home. I didn't honestly know if I'd be able to do the same with them, but…the gesture was incredible, anyways.

My heart ached, though, when I thought of them going away, where I wasn't. It was stupid and childish and absolutely bloody weird, but…I wanted them here, where I was here if something happened. After Lion's father…it made me realize that I really, really needed to protect them.

It was irrational. Completely and utterly. They could protect themselves just fine, perhaps better than I could protect them. But the knowledge that I wouldn't have the opportunity was scarily unsettling.

Still, I smiled, happy that they were getting to see their families. Bear and Tiger had conveniently lined up their visit with Lion's absence to America for Thanksgiving, to make things easier, and while I was nervous, I'd enjoy having a couple days to settle down and figure things out.

"Will do. Don't get into any fights, alright?" Bear said with a smile.

"And please don't go looking for trouble," Lion added, his face exasperated, with a hint of a knowing smile.

"And _don't_ wreck the place," Tiger said with a heatless glare, earning a smirk from me. "Seriously. Not a scratch. On anything."

I laughed, their concern both stifling and comforting. "What do you take me for? It's not like I'm going to throw a party or join a gang. Go."

Tiger grumbled an affirmative, tousling my hair somewhat aggressively to avoid the notion that he might actually care enough to say goodbye, and leaving. I smiled, appreciative of the gesture, nonetheless. Bear waved with a smile and a promise to bring souvenirs, then followed Tiger out the door.

Lion hung back. "You sure you'll be alright?"

I nodded, smiling in an effort to reassure him. "I'll be okay. Lissa says I'm doing fine, and I'm not very tired anymore. I'll take naps when I need to, but I doubt I'll be going out much."

Lion's eyes were still narrowed in shrouded concern, but he sighed, finally smiling. "Yeah, alright. Call if you need anything." He hesitated. "If…if something happens, if somebody sees you, if somebody comes after you, you do what you need to do to stay safe, but then you call me, and Bear and Tiger. I'll come back and we'll handle it. Okay?"

I hesitated for a brief second, then nodded. "Okay."

He followed Tiger's lead and tousled my hair with a smile, then left.

They did that a lot. I thought it might have been the only sign of affection they could show and still maintain their masculinity. It was kind of funny to me, honestly.

I sighed as the door clicked shut, wondering what I'd do to fill the next week.

I sat down in the recliner to finish my coffee, absently watching the news as I considered the progress I'd made. The progress _we'd_ made.

To be quite honest, I was stunned that I'd been able to disclose so much. It had been gradual, and difficult, but…good.

I'd told them…I'd told them about _SCORPIA_. Not the name—that would destroy everything I'd built, and everything I had with them—but about what I'd been taught to do. What I could do. And they'd still accepted me, despite it all, and that was…that was so far outside the realm of possibility of what I'd expected out of the SAS that I still wasn't sure it had actually happened.

I was glad that I'd been able to help Lion, and glad that I'd been able to let down my walls with him, too. He'd asked me a question every night since then, but they were mostly small things—my favorite music, sports teams I liked…innocuous pieces of information that painted a better picture of me without revealing too much.

Bear and Tiger were happy with Lion's change, and it showed in their actions and mannerisms. Bear said he wanted to take me to the youth center when he got back from his trip, since I was so good with Jonah. I faltered, disagreeing a little with the statement, but he insisted. I was somewhat excited to hang out with Bear, anyways. His energy was contagious.

Tiger showed me a little place round the corner that imported coffee from several different countries. He said he knew I was obsessed with it, so I could bloody well stop stealing his. I'd smiled. The gesture was nice, and we'd gotten coffee there on a few occasions when Lion and Bear were out, or busy. The talks had evolved from awkward and stuttered to…well, nice. Relaxing. I enjoyed getting to know Tiger more.

He'd told me more about himself. I supposed he wasn't as comfortable with opening up as Bear or Lion, and it showed; maybe that's why we understood each other. We knew how difficult it was to come right out and say the things we wanted buried.

"There was this one time," he'd begun last week, on our third trip there, "Ell and I were in uni. I dunno what happened to lead to that point, or what happened after, but all I remember was…was Elli0t yelling at some guy in the bar. Apparently they'd placed a bet, and Ell insisted that he'd been cheated out of fifty quid. And you have to understand, he had a stupidly simple sense of right and wrong. We made fun of it for him all the time.

"So Ell's infuriated, obviously, and well past plastered. And he was bloody smart, so he started spitting statistics about bar fights and all that. I went up, asked what the problem was, and Ell gets all spun out again, telling me the bet's rigged. And keep in mind, the guy's bloody huge. Imagine Lion a little bigger, and a lot meaner looking. And I'm buzzed, but I'm sober enough to know we don't stand a chance."

I'd laughed then, and sipped my Moroccan coffee, grinning as he continued with a far-off look and a reflective smile. "So I'm trying to talk him down, right? But he's ready to go full Captain America on this guy. I was sure he was gonna get us thrown in jail for the night. I turn to the big guy, try to explain that Ell's just plastered, and before I can do anything, he shoves me back into the counter. I'm buzzed enough that it takes a second to get back on my feet, and Elliot's gone ballistic now. He's wrestling with the guy like a postal maniac, and some guys jumped in to break it up, but they were latched on like they were fused together.

"Eventually the guy gets Elliot pinned, and I shove him off, and then _I'm_ pinned, and I'm thinking…well, I'm thinking the big guy's gonna tear me a new one. And suddenly, Ell has literally grabbed a beer bottle out of some poor bloke's hand and smashes it over the guy's head. So he falls on top of me, and Ell's trying to roll him off, but he's barely in control enough to stand, and he's barely moving him at all. At least that's what I thought he was doing."

Tiger had started laughing under his breath, trying not to disrupt the other patrons, and even though I didn't think the story was particularly funny, I knew it must have been a riot in the moment. I'd laughed with him. "And the constables show up and kick everybody out, and as soon as the dude's off of me, we're gone. I mean, I dragged Ell through hell and high water across town. When we finally stopped, he told me he hadn't actually been trying to get him off me. He'd been picking his pocket to get his fifty quid."

I'd laughed genuinely, then, and Tiger had laughed with me. He told me a lot of stories. I think it might have been easier to get to know me that way. He didn't do feelings, that much was obvious, but I had a feeling memories were a lot easier to share.

I was grateful for it.

The same Tiger from the beginning, who I'd punched in the face after he'd passively accused me of getting my family killed.

Bear, who I'd lied to and snapped at, and who I'd actually been jealous of, for his constant easy happiness and energy.

Lion, who I'd passively hated for his leadership and kindness and integrity and all the things I didn't have living a lie.

I smiled, and finished my coffee, and put the mug in the sink.

The word family was still scary. Still…still dangerous. Very. But it was…not too outlandish, now.

Family. Home. They were words I'd think about more, and I was ready for the change.

…

I cleaned a lot, at first. I loved being outside, but a big part of me was still paranoid about being watched and tailed, so I generally stuck to inside. I mopped and dusted and did everything imaginable, and then I did it all again the second day just to maintain my sanity.

On the fourth day, I finally got tired of infomercials and news broadcasts and went to the café and drank coffee in the chilly air, content with watching the people meander the busy street. That killed a few hours before I thought I looked more like a stalker, and I took a walk.

I went across Cookham Bridge, wondering if the lighter had been swept down by the current, or was stuck just a few dozen meters away among the rocks. I hoped it had been smashed to pieces.

I got tired after a couple miles and doubled back, resting on a bench on the busy street before continuing on, buying a couple things at the grocery. It would probably last me until they got back.

The fifth day, I finally worked up the nerve to go to the cemetery.

I dressed for the occasion, in long black trousers and a dark, baggie hoodie. I put on sunglasses and kept my hood up. It was somewhat different from how I dressed as myself or Matthew, and with my dark hair and the sunglasses, I was fairly sure no one would recognize me.

I'd agonized a lot over my going to the cemetery. I'd run the pros and cons and done the risk analysis six times, but…honestly, I didn't think it would be that big of a risk. I'd heard multiple people complain on multiple occasions that MI6 was underfunded, and I highly doubt they had a spare agent, even a new recruit or a paper pusher, to sit watch on a cemetery that I may or may not visit. And even if they had, I'd been missing from their surveillance for eight months. They definitely wouldn't have kept anyone around that long.

SCORPIA might, but…once upon a time. I'd reduced their organization from tapestries to frayed threads—they were nothing compared to their old status. I doubted that had any extra agents to spare, either.

I took the metro into the city and caught a Tube to the cemetery just outside Chelsea, constantly adjusting my shades and fidgeting, hiding my face in the shadows when I could. It was cloudy, and I was sure everyone who saw me in my hood and sunglasses thought I was mental, but it made me feel better.

I stopped by a flower shop and used some of my emergency money to buy some flowers. I wasn't really sure what kind to get—Jack had always been more into flowers, but she never shared anything about them. The florist recommended peonies. He said they represented healing.

I bought three and continued on, walking briskly down the road.

It had been a long time since I'd visited them. Not that anyone was around to be angry with me for it, but…I wondered if they were somewhere watching over me. Perhaps annoyed that I hadn't been by for a bit. I wondered if they knew my reasoning.

I walked the entire cemetery first, looking for anything that was out of place, or anyone who seemed suspicious. It was large, and it took a while, but better safe than sorry. There were a couple families visiting, a couple solitary men and women ambling around the graves, but no one who looked like they had no purpose but to watch.

Nervously, taking a shaky breath, I approached my family's graves.

Mum and Dad had a joined headstone, and were buried side by side. Ian was buried to Dad's left, with a separate headstone. They were all chiseled metal plaques laden in shining granite, dirt crusting the edges, perhaps from a heavy rain that had washed away the surrounding soil. There were no flowers, but the grass was vibrant green, and freshly trimmed.

"Hi, Mum, Dad," I said quietly, crouching down. "Hi, Ian."

I hovered for a moment, then put the peonies on each grave, sitting down cross-legged. I wondered if this was what people did. Ian never took me to visit Mum and Dad much. Said it was impractical. Jack didn't take me to visit Ian much, because when I was home, the last thing I wanted to think about was death and graveyards, after my missions.

I'd never…talked to them before, like this. I supposed I could try it. I'd seen others do it.

"I hope you're…doing well."

_Nice, Alex_, I thought to myself. _They're dead, how well can they be doing?_

I scrubbed a hand through my hair and replaced the hood, frustrated. "Well, I…hope you're happy, wherever you are. Together."

I waited, as if expecting a response. God, this was difficult.

"I met some people," I said finally, aching to fill the silence. I mostly thought of speaking to Ian, since I didn't know how Mum and Dad would feel about any of it. Ian would tell me to be careful, but…I hoped he'd be happy for me, too. "They're…really good people. People I…don't deserve, after everything."

I fidgeted, but kept going, smiling slightly. "Ian, I think you and Tiger would be at each other's throats. You'd find something to disagree about even if there wasn't anything. You'd like Bear. He's really cool, and he'd probably be able to make you laugh. That was always tricky with new people, getting you to laugh. It took Tom ages.

"You wouldn't like Lion at first. You'd say he was a pushover. But once you got to know him…I think the two of you would've been really good friends. Honestly."

I sniffed, running a hand under my nose. It was getting cold. "They're letting me stay with them. Despite everything I've told them. I can't tell if they're too nice or just mental. But…well, I'm happy."

I blinked at the admission, realizing that…it was true.

I was _happy_.

I smiled a little, laughing at myself. "I think I am. I think I'm really happy, finally."

That was another word I'd continue to think more about.

Happiness.

…

Apparently happiness, however, was hard to come by, because the universe seemed quite intent on denying me any shred of it.

At the end of the week, on the day they were expected to return, I finally got around to cleaning my window. It was painted shut, unfortunately, so I used a penknife to cut through the layers of paint and shimmy it open, sitting on the ledge with my feet hooked securely under the chair I'd drug over to clean the outside as best I could.

After that, I ate, and watched some football. The preliminary matches were still going on, but it was nice to see how the season would shape up. I missed a lot of the past few years' games because of my absences.

Lion called the house phone to let me know that they'd all met up at the airport and were on their way back. I assured them that the flat was still intact, despite Tiger's incredulity. I finished my tea and watched a documentary for a few minutes, then remembered I'd forgotten to get the mail the previous day.

I went to the letter box, and that was when things really started going to hell.

I grabbed the stack of mail, absently leafing through it as I ascended the steps to the third-floor apartment. It was bills, mainly, and a couple magazine subscriptions. I saw an envelope addressed to Bear from the youth center he worked at.

I got to the last piece of mail, and my heart shuddered to a stop.

It was for me.

There was no return address, or logo. Just a cream-colored envelope with my name and the address in delicate, elegant script.

It was for me.

With stilted, puppeted steps, I got into the flat and locked the door. I put the rest of the mail on the table and sat down in one of the wooden chairs, tearing open the envelope with trembling fingers, trying very hard to control the spots of panic dancing in my vision.

It was a lone white sheet of paper, with a single line of text.

The others got back a few moments later.

"We're back," Tiger shouted from the door, and I heard the sounds of muted chatter and heavy bags thunking against the floor, the door shutting behind them. "Jag? You here? Holy shit, this place is clean."

I couldn't answer. I couldn't. I could only stare at the wrinkling paper in my shuddering hands and try to control the panic racing through me.

"Jaguar?" Tiger asked again, stopping in the kitchen door. "You didn't answer."

"Jag?" Bear said, and his voice changed the moment he saw my face. "Jag? Alex, what's happened?"

I took a stuttered breath, my heart aching. I thought I was going into cardiac arrest. That's what it felt like.

I saw Lion come up beside me, carefully. "What's the matter, kid?"

Hesitantly, I unflexed my fingers, letting the paper fall to the table. "It was addressed to me. Here. In the letter box."

They all knew what that meant.

Someone knew I was here, and who I was.

_Home. Family. Happiness_.

I should've known those were impossible fantasies made for children to ignore the monsters. I should've known those things would never be for Alex Rider.

Lion read the letter and cursed quietly, handing it to Tiger and Bear, who reacted similarly.

I didn't need to read it again. I knew what it said.

_You're not as good at hiding as you think_.

**A/N: Hehe. He. Oh, I'm evil. Man, I love it.**

**Hope you liked it! I'm glad we got to slow down and take a look at how Alex is reacting to everything, and then I…dropped that bombshell. Heh. Coolio.**

**So. The reason I'm writing like a madwoman is because my job starts back in two weeks, and I'll be very busy with that until school starts, when I will be ****_very very _****busy. Updates will not be frequent. And it makes me sad. So I'm writing literally all I can in the two weeks of freedom I have left. I thought I'd warn you :) sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear; I super wish I could write fanfiction nonstop all the time, but unfortunately I need money and an education :')**

**Anyways! You guys continue to blow me away with your incredibly supportive reviews, and I can't thank you guys enough: ZigzagSyzergy, scarlettmeadows, HeroofOlympus24, Gabrielle Nightingale, Leticia99, otterpineapple06, sbayless44, Bumbee, britt299919, KC, LoveRider, Buddels, no-time-to-read, Charlie, Padfoot's Marauder, Beebotwriter, ClarenzaK, Dobby and Padfoot, Fangirl all da way, Night riders, reginamare, NeleWW, Weirdo, Em0Wolf, Arelia Cotta, Guest, and RiderKitty! **

**KC: *cries* omg you're so sweet ty!**

**LoveRider: Aw thank you so much! I know Jonah's precious XD**

**Also Buddels: XD hahaha**

**Charlie: Thanks! I'm glad you think so, I'm being really intentional about his healing and mental state :D**

**Reginamare: Hey! I hope you liked the little moment with Tiger :D There's more to come, don't worry! And hahaha I love them all too, don't worry XD OMG I LOVE SHERLOCK I FORGOT TO SAY THAT ONE AHHHHIUEHFEIUFH**

**Weirdo 17: No worries, I LOVE long reviews! Hahaha I'm so glad you liked it all! I know Alex is adorable and Lion is a BRO**

**Weirdo 18: Okay thank you so much I'm crying :') Thanks so much, and I'm so glad you enjoyed everything! Also, no worries! I hope you like them as much as I do XD**

**Em0Wolf: Hahaha I'm glad! And yeah they're cuties XD And I KNOW I'M EXCITED**

**Guest (so good): Thanks so much!**

**Guest (This is amazing): Aw thank you!**

**As promised, next chapter is K-Unit! And…we'll see how Alex reacts to the letter ;)**

**Love you guys! Drop a review if you want! **


	20. Chapter 19

**_PLEASE READ:_**

If you're identifying with anything Alex has been saying or feeling, if you feel lonely or depressed or tired all the time with no enjoyment from your daily life, I absolutely urge you to seek help or support if you haven't already. You are valued, and you are enough, no matter your situation. This is the phone number for the National Suicide Prevention Hotline:

1-800-273-8255

This is the Depression Hotline:

630-482-9696

There are other numbers for Domestic and Sexual Abuse, Eating Disorders, or LGBTQ+ issues, and several other numbers for your particular issue. These are American numbers, but I'm sure other countries have similar resources. Your trauma is valid, and your deserve support, no matter your situation or circumstances.

Just a warning. I'd much rather you not read if this will trigger any uncomfortable thoughts. Stay safe and well :)

**Also warnings for a naughty word, so again, the 11 and 12 year olds who think they're adults and can lie about their age, make better choices, and don't repeat it. **

**Also. I'm…so sorry. But I lied. K-Unit is NEXT chapter. And I'm so sorry because I knew you were so excited and I really did plan to have them this chapter but then…then THIS thing happened and it was very different from what I'd planned and it got really deep and dark and I was like "oh shit um this is a lot for this chapter" and I had to end it there…and I apologize I really really do but I hope you liked it anyway? And I'll try to get the next one done really soon. Sorry. Sorry. Bye. Enjoy, and have tissues on hand.**

…

I tried to leave.

It didn't go over well.

"Jag, you can't just—just go," Bear said from the doorway, looking clueless as I shoved things into my bag, feeling dizzy and weak and terrified. Tiger stood beside him, eyes pinched in concern, and Lion was standing beside me helplessly, looking for somewhere to jump in, I supposed.

I ignored him, zipping up my bag and fumbling with my jacket.

"Alex, _stop_," Lion said, and it was the voice that said he _wasn't_ messing around. When I didn't acknowledge him, he stepped forward, grabbing my wrists to physically stop me from moving any further. It was a testament to how flustered I was that he was able to. "Calm down. Listen to us. Alright?"

"I can't stay," I said shakily, grimacing when Lion didn't let go. I could've tried to flip him, or broken from the hold, but I didn't want to hurt him. "Let me go, Lion."

"_No_," he said emphatically, eyes blazing with resolved worry and frustration. "Not until you agree to sit down and _think_. We're going to talk about this, we're going to help you, but you can't just go AWOL."

"I _have_ to!" I yelled, wrenching my wrists from his hands and stumbling back, catching myself on the nightstand. The tenuous string that was my sanity and my ability to rationally _think_ was stretched dangerously thin, and I wanted nothing more than to shut everything down. "I have to go, _quickly_. You don't—you don't understand. You don't know what'll—what'll happen—"

"Then explain it to us," Tiger said, slipping into the room by Bear, arms crossed. "Tell us what's going on, so we can know how to help."

"You_ can't help_!" I yelled, feeling the thread stretch and fray. "This isn't something you can just fix because you want to! They're _dangerous_. It's not like—like they'll learn you're from the SAS and cut their losses. If it's—if it's who I think it is, they'll _kill_ you. They'll shoot you on the street, or kill you in your sleep, and they won't _care_. They don't—they don't care who gets hurt. If they think it'll benefit them, they'll go after Jonah, or Angelica, or—or your parents or Bear's dad. They have people _everywhere_. It's not like I made some small-time crook mad and he's coming after me with a crowbar. They're _ruthless_ and cruel and—and…"

Voicing the worries that had plagued me for weeks ended up being too much, and I stumbled back into the wall, my hands fisted in my hair as I shut my eyes. I gasped, trying very hard not to sob.

I didn't—I didn't want to go. I didn't want to start over again. I didn't want to be alone again. I'd finally—I'd finally found _something_, something worth a damn, and I didn't want to give it up, but I didn't want them to get hurt—

I felt a panic attack building steadily, and I couldn't breathe, and I felt like my chest was being crushed. I felt my fingertips and toes buzz with adrenaline that had no outlet, my fight or flight response shouting to be heard.

"Calm down," Lion said, his voice softer. He put his hands on my shoulders and I flinched, but I didn't push him away. "Calm down. You're panicking. You can't think like this, okay? Just…just sit down."

He took my elbows and gently sat me on the bed where I folded, gasping. I felt like I was sucking air through a narrow straw, and it wasn't nearly enough to satiate my need for air.

They knew where I was. They knew who I was with. They knew I was _here_.

They could come at any moment. They could be right outside the door.

They'd come, and hurt them, and take me, and hurt me, and—and—

"Shit, he's not coming out of it," I heard Lion say as I continued to wheeze, feeling hot tears drip off my nose and down my cheeks as I stared at the carpet and Lion's knees. "Bear, do you have—something, I…where's his Xanax?"

"Let me try something first," Bear said, and then he was replacing Lion kneeling in front of me. "Listen. Listen."

I felt his hand come to grip the back of my neck, and suddenly, my brain stopped computing everything, because he was wrapping his other arm around me and my forehead was on his shoulder. I was staring at his chest now instead of the floor, and I was trembling against him.

"I need you to slow down," Bear said quietly, his voice even and low. "I need you to take a deep breath. Feel how I'm doing it?" He took a breath, and it was exaggeratedly slow, and deep. "Just like that. Do it with me."

I felt useless. I felt young and weak. I felt helpless. He wasn't supposed to have to calm me down. I was supposed to be used to the running, the hiding, the lying. The picking up everything I needed and dropping everything else and disappearing. I was supposed to be good at it now.

I was supposed to be nineteen years old and self-sufficient and self-reliant and strong. I was supposed to be able to take on the world, because that's how I wanted to be. I wanted to be able to do it alone so I wouldn't have to rely on others that I knew I couldn't hold on to.

And now I was crying into the shoulder of my SAS unitmate, sixteen and very, very afraid. Falling apart and crumbling. They must've thought I was an absolute coward. That I was just a weakling. Just a boy in over his head and in too deep to ever get out.

I tried to do as he asked, but it was another shallow, trembling gasp, and it just as quickly turned into a sob.

I didn't want to cry, I didn't want to be weak, I didn't want to _leave_.

"Easy, easy," Bear said quickly, hand tightening on the back of my neck in comfort. "Try again. It's okay. Just try again."

I gasped again, but it was deeper.

"There you go," he said gently. "Again."

He was handling me with kiddie gloves. Like a child, and I didn't want to be treated like fractured glass. I didn't want to be treated like the broken kids he talked about from the youth center. I didn't want to be just another stupid kid crumbling under the weight of things that I should be able to handle by now.

But I couldn't even breathe, and I was so, so scared.

So I listened, and did it again.

"There you go," Bear said. "There you go. You're alright. We're fine. Everything's going to be fine."

I bristled at the words. Maybe he felt it, because he tightened his hold on me.

But he didn't say anything to take it back.

"I can't—I c-can't let them…them hurt you," I admitted, too tired and too scared to censor my words. "I can't—I finally have _something_ and they t-took everything else and I can't…"

"Alright," Bear conceded. "Alright."

But it wasn't alright, and I didn't know if it would ever be alright.

…

Bear handed me a mug of coffee and sat beside me on the couch in the living room. Two sugars, no cream. I took a sip. It was good. Tasted like it had some whiskey in it, though.

"Are you calmer?" Tiger asked from one of the armchairs.

"Do I _look_ calmer?" I asked tonelessly. What a stupid question.

Tiger's eyes narrowed. "Don't do that. We're trying to help."

I stayed quiet.

Lion held the letter in his hands. He'd read it a couple more times, even though he must've remembered what it said by now. He said he forgot things easily. Perhaps it was that.  
"Who sent it?"

I shrugged, staring sightlessly at the glass table. "I dunno. It…I dunno for sure."

I saw Tiger's eyes darken out of the corner of my eye, but Bear cut in before he could. "Who do you _think_ sent it?"

I shifted, taking another sip of coffee. "I told you…people were after me." I blinked slowly, my eyes still burning and heavy. "I…it's two groups, really. They have different reasons." One to use, one to kill, and both to hurt. "I think it's…one of them."

It was quiet for a long minute, and I took another sip. In a brief spurt of childish desire, I wanted to tug the threadbare blanket from the back of the couch and hold it around my shoulders. I wanted the comfort. But I'd been too weak today to even keep from crying, and I couldn't let myself sink any lower.

"If you want us to help, you're going to have to be a little more honest," Lion said pointedly, trying to be gentle, but persistent, nonetheless. "I know you're not ready, but…I don't think they're going to wait for you to be."

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood as tears flooded my eyes. I blinked them back, and swallowed thickly, and said, "I don't…if you know, you'll kick me out. The end is the same. I don't want to leave with you hating me."

"We won't hate you," Bear said immediately, sounding affronted. "Give us some more credit than that."

"Why?" I asked, blinking slowly again. My eyes burned anew. "S'not like it'll matter later. You knowing won't stop them. You knowing won't change anything."

Tiger let out a frustrated breath, but remained silent.

"Us knowing will be us knowing what to do if someone comes calling," Lion said. He sounded upset. Not sad. Maybe a little angry. Good, maybe he wouldn't make me stay. I wanted to, but not at the risk of their lives.

"You can't protect me."

Lion pinched the bridge of his nose. Bear shifted next to me.

I took a breath. Perhaps this was better. Perhaps if they knew, they'd let me leave. Maybe this was the push I needed to finally end it. I'd contemplated it before, on those bridges, but…I'd always managed to hold on to a delicate, frightening sliver of hope. I thought the future had given me a chance with this. This flat, this place, these people.

Perhaps it was fate giving me a glimpse of happiness before making me realize it would be better to end it all anyways, because it was a pretty illusion.

If they reacted like I thought they would, if they got angry and yelled and asked me to leave…I'd know. I'd know. And I'd go to Cookham Bridge, and I'd end it.

"They're the same ones who…who trained me how to hurt people," I said slowly, working up to it. I couldn't just…say it. I couldn't make myself do that. But maybe I could ease into it. Maybe it would be easier to say. "I…I betrayed them, and they're the ones who…who shot me."

It was quiet for a few seconds. My hands were warm around the coffee mug, but the rest of me was cold in frigid anticipation.

"And now they're trying to finish the job?" Tiger asked, his voice low.

"I suppose," I said quietly. "I…I managed to destroy most of the organization. But…it wasn't enough, I suppose."

It was quiet again.

"We need a name, kid," Lion said softly.

I closed my eyes, and put my head down, and felt shame seep into the darkest recesses of my mind.

The thin thread of my sanity was on the verge of being severed, but I said it anyways.

"SCORPIA."

The word tasted like ash and blood. The three syllables were heavy and bitter and small. It cut through the quiet air like a knife through thin paper.

It hurt to listen to the silence, so I took a sip of coffee.

It was still silent.

"The…" Bear's voice was choked on shock. "The terrorist organization?"

I nodded.

"How—" Tiger's voice was rough, and I could hear him trying to contain his anger, but it wasn't enough. I flinched, waiting for the outburst. I'd know. I'd know soon. "How the _bloody hell_ did you get mixed up with them? No, wait—you…you _went _to them?"

I shrank under his words, grasping the mug so tightly I was worried it would break. "Yes."

"What the actual _fuck_—" Tiger stood, in a fluid rush of abrupt rage, and paced like—well, like an angry tiger. "What—how could you be so _stupid_?"

"Tiger," Bear said quietly, trying to calm his friend, but it was too late.

"No, Henry, don't—don't defend him. What the hell's wrong with you? Why did you—how could you _possibly_ think they could help you?"

I took a shaky breath, staring at the floor under my feet and the mug in my hands, my eyes blurring with tears that I tried to keep locked in. One plunked pathetically into my coffee. I closed my eyes.

"I told you—they…I was lied to—"

"Oh, and that makes it better," Tiger said, flinging a hand out in an abortive gesture of sarcastic contempt. "I don't—I don't even know what to say to you. _Why_? Why did you think they could help you? What—"

"Tiger," Lion said. I flinched. His voice was hard. "That's enough."

I looked up through blurred eyes and looked at his face, and a little part of me broke, because he looked so disappointed.

And Tiger was angry.

And Bear was silent.

"Are you going to let me leave now?" Are you going to _make_ me leave now?

"Do you want to?" Lion asked. His voice was carefully neutral. "I'm not asking if you think you need to. Do you _want _to."

Hesitantly, hating myself, I shook my head.

Despite the disappointment, the anger, the silence, this was still the only place in the world I wanted to be, and I hated myself for it.

"Then no," he said with a heavy breath. It could have been disappointment. It could have been relief. I couldn't tell. "No, you're staying right here."

I ignored the way my shoulders fell even as my heart clenched.

I was signing their death warrants.

I couldn't stay.

"Can you…give us a minute?" Lion asked quietly, sounding unsure. It felt like a sign. It felt like the perfect opportunity for escape just after I'd decided to do so, and my heart twisted at the morbid coincidence. "We're not deciding anything without you. Just…you look spent. I want you to rest. And I want to give Tiger a minute to calm down," he said pointedly.

Tiger let out sardonic snort, shaking his head as he stared out the window, his face scrunched in anger.

I glanced at him, and he still looked disappointed, but he looked worried, too. I glanced at Bear, who was staring resolutely at the table with a far-off stare, his hands fidgeting in front of him.

_Thank you for everything you've done for me._

_Thank you for taking care of me._

_Thank you for trying to help me._

Words of gratitude and goodbyes bounced inside my head like violent pinballs, writhing to escape, but I choked them down with a slow sip of coffee, relishing the comfort of being surrounded by people who gave a damn. It may have been a carefully constructed illusion to maintain my sanity, now, but it was comforting.

"…okay," I said quietly. The rest of the words died softly in my heart.

I put the coffee mug on the table and stood. I wobbled once, and Bear grasped my elbow until I was steady. I stopped in the hallway, looking back at them.

Bear was still looking at the carpet, but he sent me a glance and a small, forced smile. Tiger kept looking out the window, his shoulders low, contrasting with his tense features. Lion was looking right at me. Strong and thoughtful. He gave me a nod, encouraging me to go lie down as they discussed my future.

"Thanks," I whispered softly. I wasn't sure if anyone but Lion knew I'd said it.

I didn't wait for a response.

"Should we leave him alone?" I heard Bear ask softly after I'd pushed the door closed, leaving it the slightest bit ajar. He sounded uncertain.

"The windows don't open, and I want him to rest," Lion said, matching his volume. "We need to figure out…what to do. I think this is a lot bigger than we thought."

"We're not abandoning him, though," Bear said pointedly, a sliver of disbelief worming its way into his voice.

"No," Lion said. "Of course not. We just need to be careful about how we proceed."

"Oh, come off it," Tiger said, and he was louder than the others. I flinched, closing my eyes and leaning my forehead against the doorjamb, listening with my ear pressed to the small gap. "Careful? Kid's got bloody terrorists after him. We can't do _careful_."

Lion said something about him calming down, but I eased the door shut.

Bear was right. They weren't abandoning me, but I was abandoning them.

I scribbled an apology and a few words of gratitude on a paper and put it on the bed next to my bag, looking around the room.

It had been a bubble of security and comfort. It wasn't mine, but I was…still sad to leave it.

I went through my bag and took out my pictures, leaving the bag itself and the rest of its contents, save some spare change in case I needed to make any calls, and my knife and gun. I wouldn't need the rest of it.

I eased open the window I'd previously cut open, sardonically happy at the coincidence. The fire escape was two windows over, so I shimmied along the ledges until I reached it, stepping down the rickety old thing as quietly as I could, dropping the last ten feet to the ground. I landed in a crouch, sent one last look at the open window, and ran.

…

It didn't take long for them to find me.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the people I'd reluctantly hoped for.

It had long since fallen dark, so I wandered the shadowed alleyways and backstreets, stopping each time my emotions threatened to overwhelm me. Finally, I made myself stop, and breathe, and assess.

Now wasn't the time to let things go to hell. I'd let myself break down in the flat, where I was safe. Now, I was exposed, and vulnerable. I couldn't afford to let my emotions get the better of me just yet.

I took a breath, pushing everything to the back of my mind, and continued on.

The assassin found me a few minutes later, when I was about a hundred meters away from Cookham Bridge.

I knew they would. I'd been sticking to empty, poorly lit streets with the intention of doing so. I had a plan to—to end it, like I'd thought, but I wasn't going to bloody well leave the assassin hanging around L-Unit, either. I'd take them with me if it was the last thing I did.

And if it was…that was alright. Not ideal, but alright.

A strange sense of morbid contentment slipped over my the longer I walked, the more I thought about it. I'd been struggling for so long, and now that I knew it wouldn't last…well, what use did I have for a future?

It hurt to consider, and it made me feel weak. I couldn't even imagine the incredulous look Ian would give me. The biting words Sabina would have for me for even considering the fact. The horrorstruck eyes and trembling hands Jack would have.

But they weren't there.

Suddenly, the assassin was.

They leapt from the shadows on my right, where I'd spotted them from down the street. Perhaps they knew they were being watched, and knew that I'd anticipate a bullet, so they waited. I slid my knife out from the sleeve of my hoodie, meeting theirs with a dull clang that reverberated throughout the silent street.

A passionate determination fueled my movements. I had no motivation to live, and I was no longer hellbent on survival, but I _was_ absolutely determined to keep this shadowy reaper away from the people I'd come to value.

The assassin took a clinical swipe at my injured arm. I knew I couldn't deflect with the strength I had on that side, so I dodged, trying to return with a roundhouse kick that was quickly pushed aside. The swiped at me again, and I dodged, and they blocked.

The assassin was quite good at keeping me on the defensive, I realized. After a moment of trying to analyze their pattern by the cool sweat gathering on my clammy skin, I realized they were using my weakness to their advantage, playing the long game. They knew I wasn't nearly recovered enough to last in a long fight, and they were banking on that fact.

I had to finish this quickly, then.

I was almost decapitated as I took the energy to think instead of react, the blade whishing in front of my face close enough to brush through my bangs. I danced backwards, recalibrating, breathing heavily.

"It does not have to be painful, or long," the voice said, I realized it was a man. Their face was completely covered, and their body was clad in dark, flexible fabric. The voice was accented. Eastern Europe, maybe.

"I'm not letting you hurt them," I said, raising my knife. My arm hadn't hurt in a long time, but it ached now, and I felt the uncharacteristically deep fatigue throb in my bones.

"I have no orders for them, unless they protect you," he said. "Once you are dead, my assignment ends. Make this easy, _copil_." (1)

"I don't particularly feel like helping you do your job, thank you."

I knew he was probably telling the truth. Contract killers usually didn't take pleasure in their work, and most of them were surprisingly honest. Yassen was good proof of that.

But I also knew that unless I couldn't help it, I wanted to go out on my own terms. With time to grieve a hopeless future and myself and my family.

I raised my knife, crouching into a defensive position.

The man might've sighed. I didn't have time to ponder it as he sprang forward again.

He was very skilled, and had I not been keeping up with my karate exercises when I had time and felt strong enough, I probably would've been sliced to ribbons in seconds. As it was I was nicked several times, but they were all shallow cuts. At least I gave him a few, too.

The assassin was getting more frustrated the longer we went on—that much I could tell. Unfortunately, I was getting weaker, too.

I finally came to a head when I stumbled over a loose rock on the sidewalk, shattering my balance for a split second before I found my footing. However, he was a professional, and it was enough.

I cried out in pain as the knife plunged through my hoodie and across my side, clutching it instinctively as I stumbled back, glancing dizzily down. The darkness and the black fabric hid the blood, but I could feel it pounding steadily through my fingers. It wasn't serious, but it would be soon.

As long as I could end this, it wouldn't matter, but I couldn't let it cost me this fight.

I glanced up, breathing heavily, trying to push aside the pain.

"Let me save you the trouble," I said on a gamble, hoping he took the bait, even knowing he probably wouldn't. "I'm on my way to throw myself off Cookham Bridge, so you're expending a lot of energy for nothing."

Despite the witty phrasing, saying the words was a sharp blow to my psyche, and I hoped the darkness hid how I faltered.

It was…really a thought. Really something I intended to do.

I was going to commit suicide.

The taboo word left an uncomfortable buzz in my mind, self-preservation and stubborn hope warring with depression and the practicality of my situation. I didn't have much time to ponder, though.

The man had stilled in front of me, and though I couldn't see his expression, I could see the questions in his stance.

"This is…not a situation I have come across before," he said slowly.

I scoffed, panting, pain scratching at my side with icy claws. "I wouldn't think so."

After a few seconds of hesitation, I saw his stance tighten, and my heart dropped. "Unfortunately, I cannot take you at your word. If you are so quick to die, let me end it quickly, here."

"No. I'm finishing this myself."

The man didn't hesitate again, rather threw himself back into the fight, dragging me with him.

The injury and the fatigue were both constant throngs of vulnerability, now, and I took more hits and more cuts than I would've liked to admit. He slammed the back of his fist into my cheekbone, and I stumbled back, reflexively ducking as he aimed a kick at my head. I got lucky, kicking out at his unprotected ankle, and he grunted in pain.

He recovered quickly, clinically, but it was enough time for my to rake my knife across his chest. It was a shallow cut, but it forced him to back up and regroup.

I panted, and suddenly, the world was a dizzying hurricane of colors. I looked down at the teetering ground, stumbling like a drunk in a bar to slam into the brick wall. I looked down and around the alley, taking in the writhing splotches of red dancing in my swaying vision. I'd lost more blood than I thought.

I gasped in a shallow breath, my knees shaking beneath me.

I barely had time to think before I was flat on my back in the dingy alley, my knife skittering across the cobblestones as I struggled to breathe. A hand wrapped around my throat, and my chest was crushed with the weight of someone's body, and one of my arms were pinned.

I wheezed thinly, opening my eyes to stare at my attacker's shrouded face.

"_Nascentes morimur_," he said quietly, almost comfortingly, as his face blurred above me. "_Pulvis et umbra sumus_." (2, 3)

I blinked heavily, trying to will strength into my free arm to fight back. The soles of my shoes weakly slid on the damp stones, but I had no traction. I had no strength. I had a fraying thread of will. I had little left to give.

I wheezed again, tears gathering in my eyes.

One last task, and I couldn't even do it right.

"D-did…did you send…the letter…?" I croaked out, both buying time and hoping to die with the knowledge that there weren't _two_ mysterious unknowns stalking my unit.

After a hesitant second, he nodded. "I did. My aim was to draw you out. I apologize for the crude method."

A choked laugh bubbled in my gut. An assassin with remorse. How novel.

His moves were clinical and detached, but his words made him sound empathetic. Maybe he was loathe to killing a child. Yassen didn't kill kids. I wondered if that was a common code among contract killers.

Obviously it didn't extend to all of them.

"I hope you find peace," he said at last, flipping the knife around in his hand, readying his arm to bring it down into my prone body as I gasped, my vision blurred with tears of pain. "Take comfort. You leave behind a world of sorrow."

In a final act of willful stubbornness, I finally got my hand around the gun in my pocket, clicking off the safety and pointing it up.

"You first," I rasped.

I fired three shots blindly, feeling the bullets tear through the pocket of my jacket, the barrel burning my thigh through my pants. One bullet tore uselessly into the vest under his clothes, but another hit his shoulder, and another hit his neck.

The gunshots shattered the quiet night, and I heard dogs barking in response, but it was otherwise quiet. The assassin above me was still for a surreal second, even as blood pumped from his wounds.

The knife clattered from his hand onto the stone, and he put a shaking hand to his throat, a horrible, guttural wheezing crackling from his lips. I shifted, trying to throw him off, and he toppled sideways onto his back, blood pooling around his neck and shoulder.

My gut twisted. I wondered if I'd be punished for this, after I died.

I took a deep breath now that his weight was gone, coughing in pain and discomfort, rubbing my throat. I sat up slowly, the world tilting like a drunken funhouse around me, and clumsily sent his knife spiraling away from him.

I knelt beside him, trying to get my bearings back. "You attacked first," I said finally, watching the life bleed from his eyes, now the only part of his face I could see clearly. They were green, and wide. They looked the tiniest bit afraid. "But I'm sorry."

I left the weak apology at that, stumbling to my feet, feeling unfounded guilt nearly cripple me as I left him to bleed out. I staggered to the mouth of the alley, my bloody hand trailing the brick wall in search of support. I barely had energy to put one foot before the other. My gun dangled loosely in my grip.

Another gunshot sounded, and pain tore through my thigh. I screamed in agony as I collapsed onto my knees, whirling around to see his gun, that I'd so conveniently forgotten about in my fatigue and confusion, shaking in his hand.

I closed my eyes and cursed SCORPIA for their training, and shot him in the head.

I opened my eyes, hesitantly, to see him lying dead. The gun was limp in his hand. Blood pooled around his skull.

I let my gun fall. I didn't want to go with a thing like that in my hand.

Fire burned in my leg, but I knew immediately that it wasn't a bad wound. A through and through. I didn't bother to stop the bleeding. What was the point?

I dragged myself up, cold shock numbing the wound enough for me to stagger towards Cookham Bridge.

Dogs were still barking, and I wondered if people were calling the police. I'd have to be quick, then. Or maybe they wouldn't go further than the source of the shots. Maybe.

I staggered down the sidewalk, my blood dripping onto the stones as I dragged my leg beneath me and held my side, blood slipping between my fingers. I swiped a hand under my nose, and that was bleeding, too.

My quiet, short pants echoed in the still night, and through my wavering vision, I watched the water as I walked.

I'd been through a lot of awful things in water, but I also had so many good memories, as well. Jack taking me to the beach, or the lake, to wade around and laugh and be. Ian and I spending days at the lake with her, or by the river fishing, or SCUBA diving, or snorkeling. Tom and I exploring the streams in the forests outside London, splashing around like carefree kids.

I coughed, stumbling, but continued on.

Tom. Tom. I wondered if he'd ever know.

Like a stupid twist of cruel fate, I paused in front of a payphone.

I looked around, smiling slightly. I had the strength, and the time. I hadn't spoken to Tom in so long, and…and he was about to be rid of me, anyhow.

With trembling fingers, barely managing to hold on to the change, I slid it into the payphone. I punched in his number, thumbprints of blood perverting the innocent keypad, and waited.

He was probably asleep. I hoped I could leave a message.

To my surprise, though, he answered.

"H'llo?" His groggy voice said, and my heart twisted painfully. "Who's this?"

I took a shaky, disbelieving breath, and laughed quietly.

"Look, if this is a prank call at one in the bloody morning—"

"Hi, Tom," I croaked, leaning against the glass door of the booth as fatigue washed over me.

There was a crackle of static for a few seconds that seemed to stretch, and it was almost easy to imagine his confused face, his disbelieving blue eyes widening in realization.

"Alex?"

"Hi," I said again, closing my eyes. My legs shook. I should hurry.

"Oh, my God," Tom said, and I heard frantic rustling, some banging. He was scrambling out of bed, I was sure. "Alex. Oh my God. I haven't—I haven't heard from you in—in _months_. Are you okay? Where are you? Why didn't you—why didn't you _call me_?"

I smiled, eyes still closed, and wished I could see him again. I missed him. "Sorry. I…I d-don't have long." I took a shaky breath. "I'm hurt…pretty bad. Just…calling to…I dunno. I missed you."

I heard Tom still, his familiar look of panic quite easy to picture. "Alex? Please tell me you're going to be okay. I'll fly out to wherever you are. Are you in London? I'll come to London. Seriously. Jerry, _shut up_, just—please tell me where you are and who you're with."

"Cookham," I said quietly, hearing the warning beep of the payphone. I only had half a minute left. "With an…an SAS unit. I d-don't…have long. Just…th-thanks, Tom. You were…an awesome mate."

"No, please don't, don't say goodbye like that," Tom said, fear coloring his voice as panic lowered his volume. "Please, Al. Seriously, don't do this. Come on, man, not—not like this, okay? I'm coming. I'm coming to Cookham, I swear, so tell me—"

"Bye," I said. I tried to hang up the phone, but it slipped from my bloody fingers. The cord pulled taut, and it swung slightly. I heard Tom shouting through the receptor until the call cut off.

I stumbled to the bridge, working my way to the center, my head light and my body throbbing.

I swayed, grabbing the railing with my free hand, but it wasn't enough. I collapsed onto my knees on the bridge, feeling my body list to the right, against the solid fence. I opened my heavy eyes, wishing the fence were mesh so I could watch the water, but all I could do was listen.

With bloody fingers, I took out the photos from my pocket and clumsily leafed through them, letting my head thunk quietly against the metal wall.

I wondered if Dad ever thought about ending it, before he met Mum. After all, he saw the same things I did. Was Mum the reason he stayed? Or was he just stronger than me?

I wondered how Mum felt, marrying an MI6 operative. Was she scared? Impressed? Proud?

I wondered how Ian felt about having to take me in. I knew he hadn't wanted kids, but he'd been…a really good guardian, before I'd found out all the secrets he kept. Before he'd left me to MI6 like a piece of furniture to a distant cousin. I wondered if this was what he'd intended. I liked to believe it wasn't, but a traitorous part of me wondered. Still, I wondered if he'd be proud of me.

I wondered if Yassen regretted dying for me now that I was about to finish the job myself. I wondered if he was disappointed, or if he understood. Of all of the people in my pictures, he seemed like the only one who might understand. I wondered if he'd give me a terse nod and walk away, letting me complete my task.

My eyes clouded with tears. I wondered if Jack regretted loving me. It had cost her everything.

I wondered the same thing about Sabina.

I put the pictures in a neat stack carefully by the wall, weighting them down with a loose rock. It was a stupid suicide note, but it was all I had.

That finished, I tried to muster the strength to stand, but none came.

I let my eyes closing my eyes in disappointed defeat. Maybe this was better. If I jumped, the fall wouldn't kill me—it probably wouldn't even hurt. It wasn't very high. I'd have to make myself drown, and I didn't like the thought of it.

I think I might have been unable to do it, anyways. I honestly couldn't say one way or the other if I'd have had the strength to end my own life.

Perhaps this was alright. It was the middle of the night—no one would find me here. I could feel the life ebbing away from the gunshot wound, the cut on my side, the fatigue in my bones, the cuts around my body. I could feel it seeping out because I wanted it to.

Well, maybe not. But it was better this way. I didn't have to make it happen, now. Just…let it.

I let my eyes flutter closed after taking a moment to keep them stubbornly open, trying to let myself experience the world one more time. If God was there, He was being merciful tonight—it was a full moon. It was really nice to see, too.

I hoped the person who found my body would be alright to handle it. I hoped it wasn't a kid, or a parent. I hoped it was…a doctor, or a soldier, or a constable. I prayed it wasn't L-Unit.

I smiled a little, feeling myself fade as my eyes finally closed.

L-Unit. Maybe it would be okay to think of them as family just this once. Before I didn't get the chance to again.

They were an awesome family. I wished I had a picture with them for the pile.

I let my hands fall, and my eyes fall, and my heart slow. I hoped wherever I was going was better, that the assassin's final words were true. I hoped that they wouldn't blame themselves.

I hoped MI6 would learn from their mistakes, and SCORPIA would crumble in the future.

I exhaled slowly, and let the darkness ebb in.

The last things I heard were the gentle rippling of the water, my slowing heart in my ears, and the distant hallucination of someone calling my name.

_1: Child, in Romanian_

_2: "From the moment we are born, we begin to die" in Latin [uncredited]_

_3: "We are dust and shadow" in Latin [Horace]_

**A/N: Oh my God. I…don't know what just happened. **

**Honest to God, even ****_I'm_**** mad at myself for ending it there. Never fear! The next chapter is already started. But yeah. That was ****_mean_****. **

**No more promises. I don't know what's going to happen from now on. I was just like "hey wow that note happened now I'm going to magically make K-Unit appear to help them deal with". That was the plan. When my hands started typing, the plan dissolved, and now the story has me firmly by the ponytail and is dragging me along. I don't know what's going to happen. Honestly. K-Unit is coming SOON. I'm 99% sure next chapter. We'll say that. Very soon. I'm so sorry, I know you were excited. All I can do is keep apologizing and write fast. **

**Anyways, well…I really hope you liked it anyway. Darker than usual, but our poor bean was in a dark place. Let me know what you thought :)**

**Reviews! I LOVE YOU!: Cortanacordeliacarstairs, Riderkitty, Beebotwriter, otterpineapple06, Padfoot's Marauder, Guest, Fangirl all da way, Weirdo, KingofCamelot, reginamare, Em0Wolf, Guest, AlexRiderFan, Ichigo1217, and Guest!**

**Cortanacordeliacarstairs: Aw thank you so much! Haha sorryyyyy. Thanks!**

**Guest (soooooo while you're on an updating kick)…: hahaha hope this was fast enough for you XD**

**Weirdo: Hahaha I know he's so sweet. And yeah, they suck! And…I'm so so so so so so sorry that they didn't come this time. Sorry. Hope you liked it anyways X'D**

**Reginamare: Oh, hon. I bet you hate me. I love Elliot XD I wish I could use him more but…ya know. I'M SORRY! Next chapter! SHERLOCKKKKKK**

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**Guest (love it!): Thanks!**

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**Guest (Please update soon…): …so sorry again. No K-Unit. Soon! Hope you enjoyed anyways :)**

**…**

**Thank you guys so much for sticking with me, and if you need support, I urge you to seek it. You are valued, and enough. My PMs are open if you ever need to talk :)**


	21. Chapter 20

**Optional Autor's Note: I had a really awesome question from a Guest about what music I thought about while writing this, so if you want one HELL of a feels trip, go re-read last chapter starting with the phone call to Tom while listening to "Burning House" by Cam. Feels trip guaranteed. Honestly. **

**ONWARD!**

I woke up.

The realization alone was staggering. I wasn't—I wasn't supposed to _wake up_. That wasn't the plan. I'd planned to slip painlessly away by the water. I'd planned to just…fall asleep. To just fall asleep and wake up somewhere _better_, or at least—at least different. This wasn't—this wasn't supposed to happen.

Then the pain came.

I _hurt_. I hurt in a way I hadn't hurt in a long time, since before the sepsis. The infection had been a constant, fiery _burn_, but this was the throbbing ache of a bruise that had been aggravated far too much, the bone-deep pain that signified exhaustion as well as injury.

I took a shaky breath, turning my head and clenching the blanket over me with my left hand, trying and failing to stifle a sound of surprised pain. My right hand hurt, and felt tight. I wondered where I was. My leg and my side _pounded_, and my temples throbbed.

"Jag?"

A familiar voice.

No. _No_. They weren't—they weren't supposed to find me. It wasn't—I was supposed to—

"Bear, Lion," the voice called. "He's waking up."

No I wasn't. I was slipping away. Painlessly. That was the _plan_.

"Alex, come on," he said, and it was Tiger. He didn't sound angry anymore. He was supposed to be angry. Why wasn't he angry? "Come on, now. Don't make me apologize to a half-dead idiot. You'd complain it was too easy, and it didn't count."

He wasn't supposed to be _worried_, he was supposed to be _angry, _they—they were supposed to let me go. I wanted them to let me go.

That's what I said. That's what I said, but the utter relief flooding my veins was too palpable to ignore.

There was suddenly a hand on my forehead, big and warm and gentle. "Alex?" It was Lion. His voice was low and soft. It didn't sound like him, but it was comforting. "Come on. You're scaring us."

Resigned, hopeful despite myself, I let my heavy, sticky eyes blink open.

One of them was swollen, and only opened to a narrow slit, but I let the other one roam. I blinked quickly, trying to clear the fluorescent spots from my eyes.

Heavy rays of late morning beat in through the drawn shades, reflecting off the glass table in the center of the room. I was lying on the sofa on a blanket—I supposed so I didn't bleed all over their furniture—and there was another blanket wrapped around me. I wasn't wearing a shirt, but my chest was wrapped in several bandages, gauze wound tight around the wound on my side. I felt heat flame in my face as I realized I wasn't wearing trousers, either, but someone had been merciful and left my boxers on. I supposed they had to get to the bullet wound, and my modesty wasn't the main issue. A cold cloth was draped over my neck, I supposed to help with the swelling.

I glanced up, and saw an IV drip improvised on a tall shelf from one of their rooms, fluids dripping into my elbow. I wondered if they'd had it on hand. Knowing how frenetic Bear was about his unit's health, I'd guess they had.

And they were here. They were _here_.

Bear was leaning worriedly over the back of the sofa, his fingers around my left wrist as he checked my pulse. Tiger was in the armchair, leaning forward, his face uncharacteristically blank. There was no trace of anger. Just…blank. His face was a sickly pale. And Lion was kneeling beside my head, his hand on my forehead, looking worried. Scared. As scared as when he ran a hand through his nephew's hair after his abusive father approached him.

"Hey, kid," he said softly. A small, brittle smile was on his face, his eyes narrowed in worry, but he looked so, so relieved.

My eyes filled with tears, and I was so sick of crying, because I'd done so much of it, but I was—I was frustrated. And scared, and…and _relieved_, even though I shouldn't have been, but I was.

I blinked most of them back, but from my swollen eye, they just kind of…seeped, unbidden.

"How do you feel?" Bear asked after a few seconds.

I breathed, my throat aching, and rasped, "Bad." Bad in my body and my heart and my mind and my _soul_.

Bear nodded, his eyes grim, and darker than normal. "I bet. Shall I list it, then?"

Bear sounded mad. The kind of mad Jack got when the Bank called. Mad at me out of worry and frustration.

I didn't say anything, just blinked, and Bear took it as a confirmation.

"Through and through to your right thigh, which barely missed your bloody femoral artery," he said stiffly, his voice unusually toneless. "From what I can tell, sprained ankle, bruised hip. Cracked ribs, a veritable stab wound on your left side, and a dozen little nicks all over you. Fractured nose, mild concussion judging by your pupils, swollen windpipe. Fractured knuckles, sprained wrist, and enough bruises to turn you into abstract art. You're beat to hell. You're lucky Tiger's the same blood type. We had to give you two units."

I blinked at the popcorn ceiling, trying to ignore the hovering faces and the tight words and the fact that I was still _alive_.

"What were you thinking?" Lion finally asked, his voice tense in restrained anger and blatant concern.

I swallowed, and winced, and blinked. "They s-sent…an assassin. I had t-to…" I coughed, shutting my eyes in pain. "I had t-to…make sure he d-didn't…didn't come here."

"Does this have anything to do with the body found by Cookham Bridge this morning? That just happened to be one of Interpol's Most Wanted?" Tiger asked. His face was still blank. I supposed he was so pale because he was running low on blood. I felt distantly bad. And grateful.

I nodded, sucking in an exhausted breath. "M'sorry. I d-didn't…d-didn't want to…kill him. I was worried h-he'd…hurt you."

"Don't apologize," Bear snapped, sounding less mad, but still frustrated. "God. Don't—don't ever apologize for defending yourself, or us, even though we could've _helped_." He sounded pointedly upset.

"What happened next?" Lion asked.

I swallowed again. I wanted nothing more than to sleep. "I-I…called T-Tom. My f-friend." I smiled at the memory. "I wanted t-to…talk to him." One more time. It went unsaid, but the implication was there.

I wondered if he was angry. I wondered if he'd come, even though he couldn't find me. It seemed like the sort of reckless decision he'd make out of fear and in the moment. I could almost see him, disembarking from the plane on a mission, blue eyes steely in determination, only to wander the streets of Cookham aimlessly. It was enough to make me smile.

"And then?" Tiger prompted.

I swallowed one more time, tears flooding my eyes again, seeping out despite myself. I didn't want to say it. "I wanted…t-to leave."

"You left your bag," Lion said quietly.

I closed my eyes. "Different k-kind…of leave."

They didn't say anything for a long moment. I supposed they were expecting it. My note hadn't been…subtle, I guess, and me leaving the bag was note enough.

Someone got up and stiffly left the room without a word, and I heard the soft closing of a door. I thought it was Tiger. It sounded like his heavy footsteps, but they were uncertain, and disjointed.

"I'm s…sorry," I said quietly, in pain and upset and defeated.

"We're just glad you're okay," Lion said, hand still warm and firm on my forehead. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't stand the disappointment right now. Not…not after everything. "Just…just rest, alright? We're not going anywhere for a while. We'll talk when you feel a little better."

I let myself relax at his words, the need to sleep overpowering my need to—to understand. To understand why I didn't die. Why, after everything, the most morbid irony had come to pass, and I'd been unable to kill myself because I was too badly injured. I almost laughed. (1)

I felt myself fading, knowing that it was into sleep instead of eternity, and despite my failure, I felt a twisted kind of satisfaction. While I wanted nothing more than to _rest_…I was still alive. Despite SCORPIA's best efforts, I was still here, and L-Unit hadn't abandoned me, even though I'd done it first.

It wasn't enough, but it was something.

…

The next time I woke, I felt marginally better.

I supposed it must have been the fluids. I could tell I hadn't slept for long—softer rays of early evening were slanting through the drawn curtains. Lion was sat in the armchair, flipping through a magazine. His eyes were unfocused, and distant.

I didn't see Bear or Tiger. I wondered where they were. I blinked at the ceiling, the pain having ebbed considerably. Perhaps they'd given me something in the IV. It felt nice.

I wondered distantly how things would go from now on. If they'd force me to take leave until I was better, physically and emotionally. If they'd walk on eggshells around me for the duration on my time here. If…if things would be different. I wondered if I should tell them the rest of it, now. My age, MI6, K-Unit, my uncle, my family…I wondered how much lower I could possibly sink.

I smiled bitterly, exhaling slowly. Who knew? I didn't want to tempt fate, but the lies were becoming unbearable.

"Hi," I rasped quietly. I'd think about it later.

Lion flinched, glancing at me quickly. He closed the magazine and tossed it onto the table, leaning forward. "Hey."

I blinked thickly, still heavy with sleep, and breathed. It was a thin wheeze; my throat was still tight, but it felt a lot better than the first time I'd woken up. My ribs ached, my side stung.

"Feeling any better?" He asked, scooting forward a little.

I started to shrug, then thought better of it, and nodded. "A little."

He nodded. "Good. Bear gave you some of the good stuff. Nothing too loopy, though. He knew you didn't like it."

I smiled a little to myself. Of course he remembered. Mad as he was, he still remembered.

"Where…?" I started.

"Where are he and Tiger?" Lion guessed, and I nodded. "Tiger's sleeping. He's always been a little anemic, and two pints really took it out of him. He's fine, we gave him some juice and some sweets, but he's still kind of tired. Oi," he said as I felt guilt bleed onto my face. "Don't do that. He was just glad he could do something to help."

Hesitantly, I nodded. I'd need to thank Tiger later.

"Bear's out procuring some pharmaceutical antibiotics and a couple oxygen tanks," Lion said with a reluctant smile. "He's got scary connections, I tell you. He was worried about your immune system after the sepsis, and you've been wheezing a lot."

I managed a half smile, glad that Bear was still…alright with me. A familiar pull told me my lip was split. I supposed Bear had stitched it up.

I blinked at the ceiling again, feeling heavy.

"How did—" I coughed once, my face twisting in pain as my ribs shouted in protest, taking a stuttered breath to recover. "How did…you know…?"

"Where to find you?" He finished, his face becoming carefully blank as he looked away.

I nodded.

Lion shrugged, quiet for a long minute, and said, "I…remembered. You said when you had…when you had really, really bad days, you went to the nearest bridge." He glanced back at me, pain clouding his blue eyes as memories resurfaced, and I understood. "I took the gamble, and we drove like hell. We didn't know you were gone for…for a while. I thought you were sleeping, or resting, or…"

He scrubbed a hand over his face, looking tired. Looking _worn_. "I'm so sorry. I should've known not to leave you alone. I should've—" He broke off, his voice much more uncertain than the Lion I'd come to know.

"Lion," I said quickly, my brows furrowing even as my face flared in pain at the movements. I reached out my left hand, my body aching, and tugged at his wrist. Finally, he took his hands away from his face, and looked at me. His eyes were dark with shadows of the possibilities filling his head. I knew the feeling. I took a thin breath, continuing, "It was my decision. You…you're n-not to blame. You d-didn't make me like…like this." I breathed again, trying not to feel the pain, trying to make him understand. "If not…f-for you, and Bear and Tiger…it would have h-happened a long time ago."

He shook his head, and let me continue holding his wrist. "But I knew, Jag. I knew on that bridge, when you told me about…about your system. I _knew_, even if you didn't say it. And even with how upset you were, I still let you be alone. I'm so, so sorry."

"Don't," I said finally, blinking rapidly. "Don't. Please. I…I d-don't want you to be s-sorry. It was my f-fault…"

He took a deep breath, still looking unsure, and guilty as hell, but he looked at me. His eyes were still guilty, but hard again. "I'll stop feeling guilty if you promise to never, _ever_ put me through that again. I can't—not after Elliot, and not after—after getting to know you, after opening up to you, trying to help you…please, Alex. You're a lot more important to us than that. You can't just…you can't just disappear. Alright?"

I blinked, turning away from him, but I didn't let go of his wrist. Not yet. It was grounding me, even though my fingers were trembling. I wondered if he noticed. "…I can try," I conceded. While I was reluctantly glad to be alive, despite everything…the pain was still very deep, and raw, and open, and it _ached_.

"I just…I'm t-tired, Lion," I admitted finally, blinking at the blurred ceiling and letting my eyes close, letting myself finally…_feel_. Finally experience the pain I'd buried so deep, and it _hurt_. It—it _burned_ so badly I felt the physical pain in my head, in my heart. "I'm so fucking tired."

It was a bone-deep weariness that filled each orifice and bone and tendon with lead, a planet attached to each limb, millions of lives strapped to each shoulder. It was like dragging myself through molasses under that weight every day, only to be expected to _run_ when people chased after me.

I'd been waiting so, so long to rid myself of the weight, and I couldn't even do that.

Lion didn't say anything. There wasn't anything he could say to make this better, and he knew that. I knew that. My fingers shook as they clenched his wrist. He just put a strong hand on my forehead and sat beside me, letting me know that he was there.

And despite everything I'd done to make that irrelevant, to make it a lie, he was there. And Tiger and Bear were there. And maybe even Tom was there.

I'd tried so hard to be alone, even though I was so _tired_ of it, because I knew it would only be worse when I had to let them go.

It looked like it wasn't up to me anymore.

"I'm sorry, Alex," he breathed, and I felt my chest start to heave, buried sobs revolting and finally worming their way into the open. It hurt. It _burned_. It wasn't just my ribs and side. "I'm so sorry. We're going to fix it, I promise. We'll find a way."

"I just wanted to _rest_, I just want it t-to…to _stop_…"

Lion didn't say anything for a long minute, just held my unbroken hand and kept a hand on my head as I cried, as I crumbled, as I fell apart in front of him, finally just…letting go. I let the thread snap, and months and months and _years_ of solitude and terror and pain finally came crashing out in a staggering tidal wave.

And Lion sat beside me as I drowned in it, quiet and unmoving.

"I don't know what's happened," he finally said, his voice thin and brittle. "I dunno everything, Alex. I don't. I know I don't. But I promise, when you're ready to tell us everything…we'll listen, and it'll be okay, and we'll handle it. I promise. So please promise me you're going to give us that chance."

"What if…" I swallowed, my hand shaking as he gripped it, and I felt so bad as I tried to steal strength from him. Tears streaked down my bruised, swollen face, and it ached, like everything else. "What if I lied…about something? Really important? That…that could get you in…a lot of trouble?"

Lion didn't falter the slightest bit. What was it like to have that kind of confidence? In yourself, in the people who loved you and who you loved? I wondered. "Then we'll handle it."

I blinked at the ceiling again, my body aching, my heart pulsating with acute pain. After the crying, my lungs shuddering, it was hard to breathe. "It won't…it won't be that easy."

"Never said it had to be," he said, a small, easy half-smile on his lips. He hesitated, then said, quietly, "You didn't believe Tiger, in the hospital. When he called you our brother. When he called you the…the youngest of the family."

I didn't correct him, just waited for him to continue. I took another thin, rattling breath.

"It was premature, and Tiger knew that," he said thoughtfully. "He admitted that to me and Bear later. He was afraid he'd scared you off, and we knew it couldn't really be that way just yet. But…that's not the case anymore, Alex. It's really not. It's alright if you don't consider us family just yet. I know that's hard for you, and we understand that. Just know that…even if we're not yours, you're ours. Blood means absolutely nothing to us, and no matter what you've done, who you were…we know you as Alex, as Jaguar, as Matthew, whoever you want to be, and we accept you.

"I don't care who tries to take you from us," Lion continued, quiet and strong and final. Ice in his tone and iron in his posture painted the picture of an unmovable force of tempered steel, and I selfishly wished for that shield, and for some reason, it was being given to me for free. "I don't care if it's a terrorist organization, or…or somebody else from your past, or even _you_. I told you, you're not going anywhere without a fight."

His hand was tight around mine, and this time, I couldn't tell which of us was shaking.

"You won't—" I swallowed, choking on the words, coughing once, but I had to get them out. "You won't…leave me."

I couldn't ask the question, but I could let him confirm the tentative statement.

He smiled. "No. No, we won't leave you."

I looked away from him, up at the swaying ceiling, and cried.

For the first time in…in a long time, in _years_, it felt good to cry.

…

Tiger came out of his room maybe half an hour later, looking a little better.

"Thanks," I said with a smile as he took Lion's seat beside me. Lion said he was going to put something on for dinner.

Tiger shrugged, still pale, but with a little more color. "Least I could do." His hands were busy. "I shouldn't have yelled. I know that's not what you needed."

I shrugged one shoulder, wincing, and exhaled slowly. "S'alright. I…I know it…was a stupid thing to do."

"Still. I was an arse. So…yeah."

I smiled a little, unable to laugh, and said, "You're allergic to…the s-word, aren't you?"

He laughed, and it was good-natured, and a little relieved. "Only with you, half-pint."

And then it was forgiven.

I still ached. I still _hurt_. But it was…it was manageable. There was finally a balm of companionship and—and family that I could accept to ease the burning loneliness, and…and it made the hurt just a little easier to carry.

Someone knocked on the door.

I flinched, and hissed in pain, but Tiger must have seen the terrified expression on my face. "It's alright. It's probably Bear. You know how often he forgets his key."

Okay. Okay, the explanation made sense. I was overreacting an assassin probably wouldn't…wouldn't knock. And if it was an MI6 grunt, they wouldn't let him in. It was okay. "Just…just check," I said pleadingly.

"I will," Tiger said, lightly patting my shoulder before going to answer the door. I stayed rigid on the sofa, my injuries aching as my muscles tensed, and listened. Lion had come out of the kitchen at the knock, and was standing in the foyer. He shot me a reassuring smile.

Tiger looked through the peephole, cursed brilliantly, and opened the door.

"Oh, _shit_," I heard Lion breathe before he swept forward, replacing Tiger at the door. I couldn't see who it was, and Lion was talking quietly, and I couldn't—

Had I missed someone? Had someone else come to finish the job?

It hurt like a son of a bitch, but I grabbed the back of the sofa and levered myself up. My entire core and arms were absolutely trembling, and it _hurt_, but if it was—if it was another assassin, someone come for me, I couldn't—I couldn't let them get hurt—

"No, Jag, stay down, everything's fine—" Tiger said, coming around to the back of the sofa and trying to push me down.

Too late. Panting, wheezing, I leaned heavily against the back of the sofa and Tiger's hand, and looked at the door.

The thin breath stopped in my lungs.

Four pairs of eyes turned to my beaten, pathetic form, and I froze.

"Fucking _brilliant_," I managed, closing my eyes at the utter _absurdity_.

"Alex?"

Fox's voice was one of utter shock, like he couldn't believe I was really in front of him. From the brief looks I'd caught of the others, Wolf's eyes were blown wide, and Eagle and Snake just looked surprised. I supposed more because of my physical state than who I was.

The moment of disbelieving silence shattered, and Fox tried to come to my side with heavy, frantic, angry footfalls. The way his face darkened made me flinch, and I know Tiger felt it, because his hands tightened.

Lion must've seen it, too, because he was quick to put himself in Fox's path. "You need to _back up_," he said, his voice dangerously low, hand planted on Fox's chest.

Fox's eyes darkened even more. "You don't know the situation. I know him."

"I don't care if you know him. You don't go anywhere near him unless he says it's okay."

"Just—just _hang on_ a bloody minute," Wolf said, pushing past Eagle and into the flat. Tiger left to intercept, and without his support, I sank quickly back down onto the sofa, wheezing. It was really, _really_ hard to breathe now, and I wondered when Bear would be back with that oxygen tank.

"Cub? Is that—_Cub_?"

_Yep_, I thought bitterly. _It's Cub._

"Can we just—just all calm down a minute," Snake said, his Scottish voice slow in confusion. "I don' know wha's goin' on, but there's an explanation, so how about we all just…listen to it?"

Snake was just as level-headed as I remembered, and it sounded like just what was needed.

"Told you it would be interesting," I heard Eagle mutter among several shuffling footsteps.

I couldn't see the reactions, as I stared dizzily at the ceiling and tried to take deeper breaths, but I didn't hear any further altercations.

"Jag, y'alright?" Lion asked, leaning over the back of the sofa. His eyes were worried.

I glanced at him, my chest throbbing. "Hurts to…to breathe."

Lion's eyes narrowed, and he sighed. "I'll call Bear and get an ETA. Just…just take slow breaths, alright?"

I nodded, wheezing.

"C-can…" I coughed, wincing, and continued, "C-can I…talk to Fox and Wolf? A…alone?"

Lion's eyes narrowed, and it was completely obvious that he was less than pleased with the suggestion. "I dunno, Jag…I can make them leave…"

"Please?"

He sighed through his nose, sending a dubious glance in Fox's direction. "Fine. Just yell if you need us."

I nodded, and tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace.

I could tell Tiger wasn't happy about being relegated to the kitchen, but Lion dragged him and Snake and Eagle away anyways, and Tiger said something about coffee with a good bit of brandy. I had to smile. Fox came to sit in the armchair at my head, leaving Wolf awkwardly at my feet, over which he made his annoyance clear.

"What the _hell_, Cub," Wolf started up, his face absolutely _black_ in anger and confusion.

I took an audible breath. "Fancy meeting…you here."

His eyes narrowed. "I'd smack you if you weren't already beat to hell."

I smirked a little, but it didn't hold for long. The words reminded me of Lion, in the hospital after Hollis.

"I have so many questions I don't even know which one to start with," Fox admitted, eyes narrowed, "but 'what the hell' is a good one."

I nodded, my chest tight in pain and panic. This was—this was such uncharted territory I couldn't even begin to fathom the consequences. I couldn't even _begin_ to understand my position, or what I was supposed to do. I never thought I'd be in the same room with Wolf again—or Fox, for that matter—and definitely not at the same time while my new unit was just a few meters away.

When I'd learned that K-Unit would be coming, I'd run through dozens of scenarios. I'd wondered what it would take to get Wolf to keep his mouth shut, I wondered if I could go to the Sergeant and request a different unit (that wasn't likely, but it was a fleeting thought)…and I hadn't reached a decision yet. I wasn't ready. I wasn't…I wasn't ready. Everything had come crashing down yesterday, and the fortifications I'd built were _shattered_, and…and I couldn't deal with this right now.

But I didn't have a choice, so I'd have to think of something fast.

"Give…give me a…a minute," I said quietly, trying to settle my heart.

"Who did this?" Fox asked quietly, eyes trailing my battered form. I'd pulled the blanket up to cover most of the bandages and the bullet wound, but it was still painfully obvious how injured I was.

"…doesn't matter now," I said honestly, blinking at the ceiling.

"Oh, because that answers the question," Wolf griped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, just—just—what the hell are you doing in the SAS? I thought you were with M—"

"_Stop_," I pleaded, hissing in pain as my body lurched in response to the aborted statement, groaning as I laid back. "Ah, _shit_…"

I took another breath, and said, "Look, just…assume th-they don't know…know anything. _Please_."

I looked pointedly at Fox, because he knew more, and he pursed his lips. "Alex—"

"If you want us to do a damned thing for you, you better start answering my bloody questions," Wolf said. "Who…who did all _this_?"

I blinked heavily, thinking as quickly as my sluggish mind allowed. "Um…muggers."

Wolf blinked. "Do _not_ test me right now."

"Hang on, hang on," Fox said, glancing at his friend. "Alex—Ja—whatever. Can you just…tell us what you wanted to talk to us about?"

God bless Fox. He was always a lot more level-headed. "I don't want—want them to know. N-not yet. I'm not…not ready."

"Wha—about what? About…" Wolf started, thankfully having enough tact to stop the statement. He glanced at the kitchen, then back at me, and mouthed, "_MI6?_"

I nodded. "Not yet. N-not yet. _Please_."

Fear was squirming in my gut like a nest of snakes, adding to the already-present nausea from the pain. If they—if now, of all times, somebody let something slip…

"We'll keep our mouths shut if you explain what's going on," Fox assured, sending Wolf a dark glance when the man protested. "Wolf, seriously, please try to compromise for once in your life."

I had to smirk as Wolf's face reddened, and he muttered a curse under his breath.

"I…" I took a shaky breath. "A lot…a lot h-happened. After Point Blanc, after…after Major Yu. I c-can't…explain it all, but…it was bad," I admitted, blinking at the ceiling. "MI6 let me…me go." Well, that was true. The only problem now was they wanted me back. "Others…d-didn't. Some other things happened, and…now I'm…hiding. F-from them."

Well. Not the best lie I'd ever told, but not the worst, either. Mostly truth. I could only hope they'd believe it.

I glanced at them apprehensively. Wolf's eyes were narrow. "And how's that working for you?" He asked with a pointed glance at my form.

I huffed a stuttered, bitter laugh. "N-not…great."

He rubbed a hand down his face, eyes closed. "Damn kid. You get yourself into situations that I'm not sure should bloody exist to begin with."

I gave him a half-smile. He was just as gruff as I remembered, but I was glad our progress after Point Blanc was holding. "It's a…a habit."

I glanced at Fox, whose eyes were much more suspicious, and swallowed. "C-could I…talk to Fox?"

Wolf sent me a dubious glance, but rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Have your Bond meeting. I'm gonna go see about that brandy and try to make nice with your guard dogs."

I smiled, watching him walk around the sofa and into the kitchen. He'd grown up. Two years as an SAS leader had obviously suited him well.

I said as much to Fox, and he smiled. "Yeah, he's a lot more mature than when you were with us. Still has a hell of a temper, though. You should've seen him arguing with the hostage negotiator on our last mission. I thought we'd have to step in for them before taking care of the actual mission."

I hummed in acknowledgement, closing my eyes briefly. I was exhausted.

"We can do this later, if you need to rest," he said hesitantly.

I shook my head, my throat aching at the motion. "No, I'm…okay." I blinked my eyes open again. I was really getting to know this ceiling. "Thought you were…seconded to…ya know."

Fox smirked, but his eyes were still worried. "I requested to be transferred back to the SAS full-time. I didn't like how they treated some of their agents," he said pointedly, and I breathed a little laugh. "Luckily they hadn't found a permanent replacement for me yet, so I ended up back with K-Unit."

I nodded. "How're…Eagle and Snake?"

Fox smiled, glancing at the kitchen. "Snake's still Snake. Real quiet unless he's talking to someone even quieter. Peacemaker. Good bloke. Eagle's…a handful. Damn good soldier, and an even better friend, but he's pretty immature. I forget he's older than me sometimes."

I smirked. I hadn't interacted much with Snake or Eagle during training—or Fox, for that matter—but I remembered them as being bland, almost. Very gray. I supposed because I had bigger problems to deal with.

"How's your unit?" Fox asked hesitantly, like he wasn't sure whether or not he should broach the topic.

I smiled, closing my eyes. "Amazing. They're…they're really awesome."

Fox smiled, too. "I'm glad."

I shifted, hissing in pain. "Could I…talk to Lion? And Tiger?"

Fox looked unhappy about that. "I still have some things to ask you."

"M'tired," I admitted, blinking heavily.

Fox sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fine. Just…I'll tell Eagle and Snake…what, that I saw you around? We got talking?"

I smirked a little. "I trust your…your judgment."

"And I assume you don't want…_them_ to know your whereabouts," he said pointedly, "or your unit to know…some of your personal information." My birthdate.

I nodded, feeling desperation leak into my eyes. "Please."

He sighed. "Well, I'm officially not employed by the bank bastards anymore, so I have no loyalty to them," he conceded. "And…the other thing…it's your business, Alex, but I think you should tell them sooner rather than later. It…it bothered me, to say the least, when I found out."

I felt my face crinkle in buried fear, but nodded, anyways. "I'll…think about it."

He huffed a laugh, putting his hand on my shoulder for a brief second, and paused. After a second of internal struggle, he said quietly, "I wondered…what happened to you. After." He looked away, scratched his nose, and continued, "I'm glad you're…out of that. And with good people."

I smiled. "Thanks," I whispered.

He nodded, his face suspiciously red, and wandered to the kitchen.

I closed my eyes. Damn SAS guys were really bad at showing emotion.

For how _badly_ that could have gone…I thought it went surprisingly well. I was glad. After all the shit I'd been through lately, I was glad to catch the break.

"You okay?" I heard Lion ask as he and Tiger wandered in. I opened my eyes. Tiger was holding a suspiciously large mug of coffee.

"Mm-hm," I affirmed, taking a shallow breath.

"I'm so, _so_ sorry, Jag," Lion said, eyes pinched in guilt and worry. "I invited them for dinner on the way back from the airport. I was going to tell you as soon as we got home, but then—then you had the letter, and then you disappeared. And…yeah. It completely slipped my mind, I was so worried about you."

Ah. Well, that was shitty timing, but I understood. I wouldn't have remembered my dinner plans either if someone had been bleeding out on my sofa.

"It's okay," I assured with a shadow of a smile, wincing. "What did…they say?"

Lion glanced at the kitchen, lips pursed. "Eagle and Snake didn't seem to know much, only that Wolf called you Cub, and…and you trained with them? For two weeks?"

"S'that why you were so freaked out when Lion mentioned them?" Tiger asked. He was still pale, but looking a little better.

I nodded. "I-I…I worked with…with Wolf and Fox, separately. After…after being Cub." I shrugged one shoulder. "I didn't…I didn't want to…" I struggled to continue, frustrated.

"Take your time," Lion said. "Really. It's alright."

I closed my eyes, trying to slow down. "Wolf knows some, and…Fox knows a lot. Things you…don't know yet. But…you know things that…that they don't know, either. And…putting them together could…" I shuddered, my wounds aching. "Could be…awful."

"Okay," Tiger said, sipping his coffee. "Don't put them together. Sounds easy."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, feeling so guilty, but they couldn't find out about MI6 or my age or my past just yet. Not…not so soon after SCORPIA.

"We've been over this. Don't apologize for stupid things," Tiger said.

"You've had a long couple days," Lion said with a faint smile. "We'd be monsters to ask you to explain anymore now."

I smiled. I opened my mouth to respond, too, but Eagle's shout drowned me out. "Oi, did one of you put something on the stove?"

Lion's face drained of color. _"Shit_."

He leapt up and ran to the kitchen, and I after a few seconds of intelligible chatter and some shouted orders, I heard a fire extinguisher.

Tiger looked _done._ "There goes the bloody security deposit," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I swear."

I grinned, my lip stinging, but the rest of my aches and pains easing as little as I listened to the chatter. At that moment, I heard a key turn in the door, and I heard Bear stumble in, sounding laden with medical paraphernalia.

"Could I get some help here?" He asked, the door banging softly against the wall. "Seriously, I just went to four places to find the bloody—what the _hell_—"

With Tiger's help, I sat up enough to catch his dumbfounded expression as he caught sight of the four strangers in his kitchen, Lion's disheartened expression as he gripped the empty fire extinguisher, and the foam covering their stove and what might have been soup.

Bear blinked, glancing at me, and then Tiger. "Well…what'd I miss?"

Despite everything, despite the pain I was in and the leftover panic still clogging my lungs, the uncertainty of the future, the memory of what I'd almost done and what it had almost cost…it felt good to laugh.

**A/N: (1): Got this line from a reviewer on AO3! It was too awesome not to use :)**

**I fixed it! Kind of. Recovery isn't that quick, of course. There will be more. But we're on our way :)**

**K-UNIT! My babies! I hope I did them justice! Don't worry, we'll see a lot more of them later, I just didn't want to get too deep into it the same chapter I introduced them. Hope you liked it :) let me know!**

**YOU GUYS. The reviews from last chapter were AMAZING. You're all so encouraging and thoughtful and wonderful. I love you: Padfoot's Marauder, Rider kitty, Guest, fa6imah.2000, Kosta1, agent potter, hunterjk123, AlexRiderFan, Dobby and Padfoot, Weirdo, otterpineapple06, Guest, Ichigo1217, Guest, Guest, Beebotwriter, Night Riders, ClarenzaK, Guest, Guest, Em0Wolf, Fangirl all da way, Charlie, reginamare, Dani9513, Guest, Guest, Eriethwen, Guest, Guest, chelanfish1, Guest, Guest, Guest, Guest, and Guest!**

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**Guest (What kind of music do you think of writing this story?): That…is an excellent question. Thanks so much for asking that. I'm going to be thinking about that. For now, I think a good song for the last chapter would be Burning House, by Cam. I'm gonna make a note up top! Thanks!**

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**Guest (Awesome. But how DOES Alex have a picture of Yassen?): He found it in his dad's stuff! Thanks for asking! Maybe kind of unrealistic, but considering how close Yassen and John were, I figured he'd have kept SOMETHING. **

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	22. Chapter 21

"Well, hi, Cub," Eagle said as the four of them were about to leave (ironically). Bear had finally hooked me up to the oxygen, and I was sitting up (after a lot of huffing and puffing and help), the blanket pulled up to my chest to cover the scars. Lion was standing at my shoulder, his stance tense. I supposed he didn't quite trust K-Unit yet. "Fancy seeing you after all these years."

I gave him a tense smile from behind the mask. "You too."

They'd hung around for a little while longer, trying to reconcile what they knew about the situation without giving anything away. I dozed for a little while. Lion stuck close by most of the time; I had a feeling that would be the norm for the next few days. He didn't really like letting me out of his sight. Though it was…a little smothering, it was also…really nice to feel protected.

Bear and Wolf had almost gotten into a shouting match, which, in any other situation, would have been absolutely hilarious. Wolf had argued that I should be in hospital, quite passionately. I was almost touched. Bear had argued that he was perfectly capable of looking after me, and that I didn't want a hospital, not with everything going on.

He refused to elaborate, which just made Wolf angrier, and refused to settle down until Snake offered to check the bigger wounds to make sure everything was in order. Bear didn't look thrilled, but it appeased Wolf, so he put up with it. I made sure to keep most of my scars covered with the blanket, and he gave Wolf the all-clear. Wolf crossed his arms over his chest and muttered something. I was glad I couldn't understand it.

Other than that, though, we got on well enough. They mostly gave me space, though Fox pestered me a little more. Otherwise…it wasn't horrid.

"So…must've been weird when we talked by the lake," Snake said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

I smiled a little more genuinely, trying not to laugh. "It was. I was…worried you'd recognize me."

"Well, I thought you looked a little familiar—"

"Oh, come off it," Wolf grumbled. "You have the memory of a goldfish. You'd barely remember what we looked like if you didn't see us every day."

Eagle laughed as Snake blushed, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "He's right, mate. You'd forget your own name given the chance."

Fix grinned, shaking his head. "We'll let you get some rest." He gave Lion a tepid smile, and Lion nodded. "Sorry to meet on…awkward terms."

Lion hesitated, then nodded again with a small smile. "You as well. We'll get together sometime soon, when Jag's a little healed up." He put a reassuring hand on my shoulder, and I instantly felt calmer.

"You want anything to drink for the road?" Bear asked from the kitchen. Tiger really needed to eat something, so Bear had made something quick in the microwave. "We've got coffee and tea. Water, too."

"We're fine, thanks," Wolf said. He glanced at me. "Heal up. Weird to see you again. Not too horrible, though."

I smirked. "Careful. You might start…to sound human."

He finally smiled, eyes lighting up. "Wouldn't want that. Later, Cub."

Eagle waved and Snake nodded, but Fox stuck around for a minute. He glanced at Lion. "Could I have a minute?"

Lion's eyes narrowed, and he glanced at me. I nodded slightly, minding my throat, and tried to give him a reassuring smile. He sighed, not looking happy, but tousled my hair and went towards the kitchen, sending Fox one last look.

Fox pursed his lips a little, and I fought the urge to laugh.

He sat in the chair by my head. He smiled softly, but his eyes were worried. "I'm glad you're alright."

I nodded. "Me too." I wasn't sure how truthful it was, but…for the moment, it was true enough.

He looked down, folding his hands together between his knees. "Who…who really did this, Alex?"

After a second of searching his downcast eyes, I looked up at the ceiling. "…an assassin."

Fox glanced up, and I could tell, even in my periphery, that he was reluctantly unsurprised. "Shit, kid. What've they had you doing?"

I shook my head. "I can't…can't talk about that." Not so soon after L-Unit.

Fox took it as me pulling the typical "classified" card, though, and pursed his lips. "You don't owe them anything."

I gave him a half-smile. "No. I don't…d-don't want to."

His eyes softened, and he sighed. "Fair enough, I suppose." He paused, glancing at the kitchen. "What did you tell them? About the attack?"

I shrugged. "The truth. A little, at least."

This was dangerous. L-Unit knew about SCORPIA, and…and Fox knew about MI6, and my age, and the circumstances. Putting those together without the right context would paint an…an awful picture, and I couldn't let it happen.

He seemed surprised. "Really?"

I smiled. "I trust them." I did. I trusted them a lot. I just…I couldn't make myself divulge everything just yet. I needed time to get used to each reveal.

Fox blinked. "Well…alright. I guess if _you_ trust them, they're good people."

I closed my eyes, smiling behind the oxygen mask. "The best."

I heard Fox huff a quiet laugh. "That's good. I'm glad you've found them, then."

"Me too." There was absolutely no hesitation on that one.

He patted my shoulder, and I opened my eyes a little to watch him go, feeling exhausted. "I'll come back soon. I want to talk to you some more. I want to know what's going on."

I felt my heart pound a little faster, but nodded slightly. I supposed…Fox knew the big stuff. The worst stuff. Maybe telling him could be a…a practice run of sorts, for L-Unit. "Okay."

"Get some sleep," he said. "You look like you need it."

I quirked half a smile and let my eyes close, leaning back against the sofa. I was still in pain, physical and otherwise, but it didn't seem so bad now.

Lion came back after he'd seen Fox out. "Tiger's gone to bed, and Bear's making you some broth. Think you can take some?"

I hummed without opening my eyes, unwilling to leave the blissful warmth of waning consciousness.

"Jag?"

I hummed again, a bit more aggressively, hoping that it conveyed my utter exhaustion and frustration.

It must have, because he chuckled. "Fine. I'll wake you in a little while."

As I was dozing off, I felt him gently push the hair back off my forehead. "M'glad you're still here, squirt."

I couldn't tell if I smiled or not, but it made me happy all the same.

…

The next day, I felt a good bit better.

I had a feeling my physical injuries, while severe in their own right, had been somewhat exacerbated by the emotional turmoil wreaking havoc on my mind. Now that at least a little bit of it was sorted, I felt a little better. The swelling in my—well, everywhere, really—had gone down some, due to Bear's vigilant ice packs. I could see out of both eyes, now, and breathe deeply.

"Well, it's not infected," Bear said as he cleaned the bullet wound. "That's good, especially after the sepsis scare."

I was propped up on the couch (finally dressed, thank God) against a pile of pillows, under a couple blankets. I hummed in acknowledgement.

Lion was at church, and Tiger was running some errands, finally having recovered from being partially exsanguinated. Apparently we were down to nothing but frozen dinners and some rotten eggs, which wouldn't make the best meal, in my opinion. Bear and I had been watching the tellie in companionable silence before the timer went off, indicating a bandage change.

"How're you feeling?" He asked, glancing at me as I hissed in pain at the antiseptic. "Sorry."

I shook my head, indicating that it was fine. "A lot better. Um…my throat doesn't hurt as much."

"Good. I was worried about the swelling," he admitted, glancing at it. "You've got some pretty bruising, but it looks better. How long was he—" Bear paused. His eyes darkened, and he looked away, shifting. "How long was he…choking you?"

I hesitated, thinking back. Flashes of steel and lines of blood filled my mind, and I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. "Not long. Maybe…I dunno. A minute or so. Only with one hand."

Bear nodded. "Okay. Anymore than that and I would've been a lot more worried."

I glanced away.

He finished with my leg and moved onto my side, and I shifted, blushing in familiar humiliation as I lifted up my shirt to reveal my scars.

"I know Lion already talked to you," he said hesitantly, pouring peroxide onto the cloth in his hand, "but I'm going to do it, too. And I think Tiger wants to, later. What the hell were you thinking?"

I shifted, resisting the urge to sigh in frustration. "I'm tired, Bear."

"Well, that's too bloody bad, because I'm tired, too."

I felt my face screw up in frustration and repressed anger. "Like you said, I already talked to Lion."

"You didn't talk to me. And I'm pissed." He paused. "And…and _hurt_, mate. And worried. And…pissed some more. God, what—you know, just…you've done enough talking. I know you're tired, so just listen.

"When I was fourteen, I told you, I made a big mistake that got me shoved into therapy. I was…angry, and I repressed it, and I hung out with the wrong crowd. I didn't tell you what the mistake was." He took a deep breath, and I waited, my heart thudding in anticipation. "I…I overdosed."

I blinked, not having expected that. Not from…not from Bear, the joyful medic who turned into Mr. Hyde when one of his unit was hurt. Not from him. "What?"

He nodded, dabbing at the wound on my side with careful precision, his eyes far away. "On heroin. The guys I ran with…well, they didn't give a shit about me, to be blunt. I only liked to think they did, and I think I knew that. They'd just gotten a new stash in, and one of them joked that I should try some."

He blinked rapidly, looking away. "I didn't know what it meant. I was fourteen and stupid, and I wanted to do anything I could to feel…you know. Accepted. I thought it was just going to make me dizzy, or floaty, or something. One of the older kids got my syringe ready, and they were being careless. They gave me too much."

My heart hammered, and I had to remind myself that he was here, in front of me, and alive and okay. I resisted the urge to reach out and poke him in an effort to further reassure myself, instead letting him continue.

"Once they realized what'd happened, I was…well, I was past gone. They got out of there as quickly as they could. Didn't call an ambulance, didn't tell me what to do…just…kind of left me for dead, you know?"

They were lucky this was almost a decade ago and that Bear probably didn't remember their names. I was on the verge of being livid, once I pushed through the horror. I knew what it was like to be left alone to die.

"Somebody happened to pass me, and they had a medical background. Just…sheer luck. Pure coincidence. They stabilized me and called someone, and I woke up after they'd pumped me full of Narcan and fluids. My dad was crying."

He sat back, eyes dark and angry. "I was so mad at myself, and at them, and…the anger was just…boiling, you know? And I yelled at my dad and the doctors and the therapists until one day…I dunno, mate. I just got tired of yelling. I got tired of being angry."

Bear sighed, and I kept quiet, afraid to break the moment. "Heroin _sucks_. One hit and you're addicted. Obviously, I wasn't allowed any more of it, so the withdrawals were awful. And they made me even more irritable and angry than I already was. So I'd spend entire days and nights in the bathroom, feeling like my insides were being ripped out. And I'd be, just…_screaming_ at my dad. I treated him so badly. And he'd sit with me the whole time, no matter what I threw at him.

"I didn't deserve him at all, and he _definitely_ didn't deserve me. I was an ungrateful piece of shit after all that. And…" He shrugged, a faint, bitter smile on his face. "I never got as close as you, but during some of the…the bad nights, I did think about ending it. I thought about going to find some heroin and shooting up and slipping away on the high. It sounded good. And…then I let people help me, and I got better."

The revelation was beyond shocking, and I felt my eyes widen, and my gut twist.

Not Bear. Not…I couldn't reconcile the black thoughts in my mind with…with _Bear_. Who was so kind and supportive and _funny_ and _happy_. Who was the first one to really reach out to me, and who sat with me after my nightmare and didn't judge me when I cried or when I sat huddled against the bathtub shaking. Who…who was the first one in a long time to…to really give a shit.

He glanced at me. "I know what it feels like, a little. To think no one's on your side. To think there's nothing left. It's going to be hard, Jag. It—it took a _lot_ of extra work to become a medic. I wanted to, since the person who saved my life was an army medic. They were reluctant to trust me around pain medication and stuff, but…" He shrugged. "I worked hard. I worked my arse off."

He smiled, and patted my shoulder as I stared at him, nausea writhing in my gut. "Look where I am now." He glanced around, a fond expression replacing the bitterness on his face. "I've got an awesome home and my dad and I are good now. Elliot and I were good friends, so much so that…that he died for me, and even though I'll always, _always_ wonder what I could've done to change the situation…I know he did it for me. And I've got Lion and Tiger, and I know they'd die for me, and I'd do the same for them."

He squeezed my shoulder. "And now I've got you. That's only four living people, so…don't go anywhere. I don't have a lot of friends. I can't afford to lose even one. Got it?"

I fought through the shock and the grief and the guilt enough to nod, slowly. "Bear…"

His eyes were shining, and he quickly looked away, standing. "Yep. That's enough of that." He turned away, rubbing at his eyes in one swift motion. "God. Took me ages to tell Lion and Tiger about that. Took you two months. See? Special treatment. Don't abuse it."

He passed me quickly, ruffling my hair in passing, and disappeared quickly into the bathroom. The door shut softly.

I leaned my head back against the pillows.

I was a selfish bastard sometimes.

I closed my eyes, and wracked my brain, and came to a decision.

Bear came back and sat down like nothing had happened, turning on the tellie. "What do you want to watch?"

I shrugged. "Um…I can…" I sighed a little, struggling to find the right words. "I can tell you something. Since…I know that was really hard to…to share."

God. I sounded like a little kid again. I felt myself blush brilliantly.

Bear glanced at me, eyes drawn in confusion and concern. "That wasn't the point, kid. I just wanted you to know you weren't alone."

I fidgeted. "I know, but…but…I want to…" I struggled, again, to formulate my thoughts, frustrated. "I want to…show you that I…I _do_ trust you. A lot. I really do. I just…it's hard."

He eyed me for another miunte, then quietly switched off the tellie and turned to face me. His eyes were open and kind and so _supportive_, and I didn't deserve him at all. "I don't want you to think you have to. But if you want to…I'll listen."

I nodded, taking a breath, glancing at the blanket over my legs. "Well…a few years ago…my uncle died." I swallowed at the words, glancing at the glass table, thinking of my pictures. "Um…did you…did you get my pictures, from the—the bridge? He's in there."

My heart ached. Those pictures had been through so much with me, and if—if I'd lost them—

"Oh, shit, yeah," Bear said, rising quickly as his eyes pinched in realization. "I'm so sorry, Jag, we totally forgot about them. I'll grab them."

I felt myself sink in relief, closing my eyes and letting out an exhausted breath. Thank God.

Bear returned a second later with the stacked, neatly banded together, and handed them to me. He sank beside me on the sofa. "We did our best to…clean the blood off."

Ah. Yeah. That must've sucked.

There were splotches of faded pink on the white backs, but the glossy fronts of most of the photos were unscathed. The faded paper print of my mum and dad and me had a red stain on the upper corner, but that was the only significant damage.

"Thank you," I said honestly, closing my eyes. "These are…really important to me."

"I noticed."

I flinched. Yeah, I supposed he had, considering what I'd almost used them for.

I leafed through them once, Bear watching the pictures flutter by, and settled on my uncle. Ian and I had just finished climbing a trail on the Swiss Alps, and we were nestled in one of the upper rocks between two of the peaks. One of the guides had offered to take our picture. I almost didn't recognize myself.

With a second of hesitation, I handed it to Bear. "That's me and my uncle."

Bear looked at the picture and smiled, his eyes fond. "You look happy."

I smiled, too. "I was. He was great, but he had to travel a lot, for work. He always took me on trips whenever he had free time. We did a lot of stuff together. We were…pretty close."

Bear looked at the picture for a second longer and handed it back. I put it back and leafed through them again, finding the picture of Yassen. It was a candid shot, and I'm sure if the assassin ever knew my dad had taken it, he'd be livid. But…reluctantly, I was glad to have it. Even if I didn't know how I felt about him…he was still important. A link to the dad that I never knew. "This is…his name was Yassen."

I handed it to him, and he stared at it for a long minute. He brows creased. "This is—"

"Russian assassin Yassen Gregorovich," I confirmed, and he glanced at me incredulously. I quirked a smile at the expression on his face. "Yeah."

"…I'd ask how you know him, but I know you won't tell me. Just…_how_? How do you have, like…more stories than, I dunno, someone who spends their life doing nothing but travelling the world and meeting people, or something…"

I laughed a little. "No, he…well…it's a _really_ long, complicated story, but…he was a friend of my dad's. He saved my life a few times, and the last time, he…he died for it." I paused. "And he also killed my uncle."

Bear glanced up sharply, lips parted in an aborted question.

I gave him a small, bitter smile. "I have…mixed feelings."

"…I would too," he said finally, staring at the picture for a moment longer before handing it back to me. "Your family sounds complicated."

I snorted, and it hurt my nose. "You've got no idea."

I leafed through the pictures again, and it felt _so good_ to have them back in my hands. "These are the only things I…I _always_ make sure to take with me. I always make sure I have them before my gun, before my clothes…they're…they're really important."

Bear nodded quietly. I figured he realized there wasn't a good response.

I leaned back, my side flaring in pain, and winced. "I… love my uncle, I do. He's…the only member of my family that I ever had a real relationship with. But sometimes…" I swallowed slightly, wincing again as pain flared in throat, but continued. "Sometimes I hate him. When he died…he left me in…in an _awful_ position. I don't know if he did it knowingly or not, but…he did. And it led to a lot of really bad things."

I paused, and Bear continued to listen. "Yassen…I met him shortly after. I didn't know, at first, that he was the one who killed Ian. He helped me, and…saved my life. Gave me advice when no one else would. He said it was because he didn't kill children, but…I like to believe it was because he gave a damn, you know? He was the only one who really…acted like he cared, besides my guardian. And I needed that."

I shrugged, settling back against the sofa, sending Bear a small, embarrassed smile. "I know I probably confused you more than I explained, but…yeah."

Bear raised an eyebrow. "I'll say. But…thanks, Jag. I'm glad you told me."

I smiled. Totally didn't deserve him.

I told Lion and Tiger the same things when they got home, and I didn't deserve them either. Tiger was obviously having a bloody hard time tamping down his curiosity, because he asked a lot of questions (most of which I couldn't answer). After a while, he just stared at the photos, eyebrows drawn in frustrated confusion.

"Yeah, but—but how did they—"

"Tiger, seriously," Lion said, pinching the bridge of his nose. I had to snort in good humor at the exasperated expression on his face, and Bear laughed. "No matter how many times you ask the same bloody questions, the answers aren't going to change. Family's confusing, just…deal with it, mate."

Tiger looked less than satisfied, but he didn't press the issue.

…

They finally let me move to the spare bedroom that afternoon. Bear emerged from their supply closet with a pair of old crutches ("_Screw you, Tiger, I _told_ you they'd come in handy one day"_) and basically threatened to fasten me to the bed if I used them for anything other than to go to the bathroom without help.

My side _hurt_, but I felt a lot better in the bed than the sofa. I noticed that the window had been nailed shut.

Yeah, okay. I deserved that.

I slept for a couple hours, feeling refreshed, and read one of my books for a while. Tiger brought me dinner a little while later; he kept me company while I ate it, which was nice of him. My side ached after sitting up for a little while, so I finally laid back down when I was done, letting out a small sigh of relief.

"Better?" He asked, putting my plate on the nightstand.

"Yeah. Much," I conceded.

He nodded, glancing around the room. "You haven't done anything with the room."

I blinked, following his lead, and glancing around. My duffle was in the closet, and I'd taken out my few clothes and put them in the dresser, but…otherwise, he was right. The walls were bare. I kept my gun in my nightstand drawer, my pictures tucked safely beside it, and I left my books in my duffle most of the time.

I shrugged a little. "I…you know. I didn't know how long I'd be…staying. And I don't have a lot of stuff."

Tiger nodded. "Still. You can do a little bit with it. Have you gotten your paycheque yet?"

"Um…I assume so," I said thoughtfully. "I haven't been able to check it. Could I borrow a laptop sometime to see?"

"Yeah, sure," Tiger said, leaning back. "But once you do, we can take you to get some stuff, if you want. It's looking like a guest room. Move in a little, geez."

I didn't want him to know quite how happy that made me, so I looked down to hide the blush in my cheeks and the smile on my face. "…I'd like that."

He glanced at me, nodding, looking quickly away. "Um…yeah. I picked something up while I was out, by the way." I hadn't noticed the plastic bag at his feet, so I was somewhat confused when he picked it up and set it beside me. "Didn't have any ribbon. Hope you don't mind."

His voice conveyed toneless sarcasm, but I could see the nervousness in his fidgeting hands and his tight shoulders.

I sent him a confused look, then peeked in the bag, hissing as I turned to put it on my lap. I reached in and pulled out a rectangular box.

I blinked. "Tiger…I can't accept this. Seriously. How much did this cost?"

He'd gotten me a _phone_. And a recent model. He'd also gotten me earbuds to go with it. God, this must've cost a couple hundred pounds, easy.

He shrugged. "I got it on sale; it really wasn't that expensive. You mentioned you missed music, so…yeah. Plus, it bothered me that you didn't have a phone when you—" He stopped abruptly, cutting himself off, and I looked down. My fingers tightened. "Yeah. It bothered me that we couldn't call you. So…yeah."

I was touched. I really, really was. But… "I…still, this is…a lot of money, Tiger. At least let me pay you back when I get some saved up."

He rolled his eyes. "You git. Don't refuse a gift. It's rude." He paused, searching my face, and sighed. "You can answer a couple questions, if you really want to pay me back."

I narrowed my eyes. "That's cheating." It was hard not to sound like a petulant child.

He smirked. "Take it or leave it."

The prospect was nerve-wracking, but I also knew that…if I _really_ didn't want to talk about it, and I said so, he wouldn't make me. That was enough to put me somewhat at ease. "Fine."

He paused, then leaned forward. His expression was blank. "Why…why did you seek out SCORPIA? How could possibly think they could help you?" His voice was neutral, and I could tell he wasn't angry, at least. Just…curious. Maybe a little incredulous.

I'd half expected the question, but it still sent my heart thundering awry. I took a steadying breath.

"I can't…tell you everything," I started. He nodded, asking me to continue, and I took another breath. I leaned back. "I…well…I told you about Yassen, and Ian, and…the…rather odd dynamic." Tiger gave me a reluctant half-smile. "As Yassen died, after he saved me…he told me to go find SCORPIA, and I'd find my destiny." My mind ached at the memory, and I narrowed my eyes. "He thought he was doing the right thing."

"How so?"

I shrugged, remembering the quiet words on the man's bloodstained lips as someone I thought was invincible, unkillable, succumbed to death. "He thought I belonged there. It was…an odd situation. But…he really thought they could help me, and…he'd just died for me. He told me they had answers to questions I'd had for…a long time. So, I…went."

I admitted it quietly, feeling a little guilty and very embarrassed. _That_ had ended brilliantly.

Tiger, after a second of thoughtful silence, nodded. "Okay. I just…you're not stupid, kid. And it was a stupid move. I wanted to understand."

I nodded, too. "I get it. I know it was stupid. They're a bunch of demented, manipulative arseholes."

Tiger barked a laugh, clapping me on the shoulder. "I'm glad you feel that way."

He stood, collecting our dishes. "I uploaded some music, and put in our numbers, but beyond that…go wild. I didn't know what you liked, so I guessed."

I looked at the phone, then at him, and smiled. "This means…a lot. Thanks, Tiger."

He grumbled something and turned away, but I caught the blush on his neck. "Yeah, whatever. Just don't…I don't know, hack into the Pentagon, or anything."

I laughed softly as he closed the door, turning over the box in my hands. It was an older model of the iPhone (**A/N:** **yes yes I realize these books were published in like 2002 but I'm defenestrating canon bc it's 2020 and Alex deserves an iPhone for all the shit he's been through)**, but all I really cared about was that I could use it to make calls and listen to music.

I turned it on and familiarized myself with the setup, then went to the music app and scrolled through Tiger's selections. I supposed he'd remembered me talking about the music I liked, or he'd talked to Lion about it (because I'd talked to Lion quite a lot about the music I missed) and uploaded a few of my favorite artists. Sabina had made me partial to American music, and I saw a few songs from Green Day, Billy Joel, 5 Seconds of Summer, and Imagine Dragons. I also saw a couple songs by Lewis Capaldi and Ed Sheeran, and a couple other UK artists.

I smiled, plugging in the headphones, hitting shuffle, and laying back.

God, I'd missed listening to music. I'd missed it a lot more than I realized. My right leg still ached considerably, but I tapped my left foot to the steady rhythm, letting my thoughts and anxieties fall away to the thrumming basslines and the even guitar, humming along to the lyrics I knew.

I listened to it until I fell asleep hours later, feeling better than I had in a long time.

…

A frantic pounding on the door woke me in the middle of the night. I barely avoided jumping out of bed in surprise, my side pulling uncomfortably as I hissed in pain. I heard the others sweeping into the hallway as I grabbed my gun from my nightstand.

"Seriously, you always assume the worst," Bear grumbled, still half-asleep, but he looked somewhat alert. "Just stay down. It's probably nothing."

The pounding came again, more insistent this time, and I flinched.

I heard Tiger and Lion shuffling to the front of the flat, and I heard the clink of the chain being undone on the door.

I saw Bear's eyes widen in surprise and confusion as whoever was at the door started talking. Their voice was low and muted, and I couldn't really hear it, but Bear didn't look worried.

I grabbed my crutches and painfully lifted myself out of bed, ignoring Bear's order to stay put. "Jag, seriously, it's fine. It's just some kid. I dunno what he's saying, but I think he's just lost."

Nevertheless, I made my way to the door. "I just want to make sure."

Bear pursed his lips, but sighed in resignation.

He stepped out of the way to let me into the hallway, where the voices became clearer. I felt my eyes narrow at Lion's rising voice, but whoever was in the doorway seemed pretty adamant about something.

"—gonna tell you this one more time, you need to _leave_," I heard Tiger say, his voice low and dangerous.

"Not until you give me a bloody answer! Is he here or not?"

I felt my eyes widen and my throat close in surprise and muted dread and reluctant _joy_, but I managed to get the name out all the same as I stumbled into the hallway, locking eyes with the boy in the door. I'd know those blue eyes and that short frame anywhere.

"Tom?"

**A/N: *me glowing with pride because I spelled paycheque like a British person***

**Also! HAHAHA TOM YOU SLY BOY. We knew he'd come for his best mate ;)**

**Also also. Geez, everybody's blushing and crying. I swear it's not a romance. Just…an emotionally trying situation with a bunch of (mostly) grown men who don't know how to handle their emotions because and I STAND BY IT male mental health isn't taken as seriously as they need to be please and thank youuuuuuu. **

**ALSO ALSO ALSO PLEASE READ I HAVE A QUESTION****: …will you guys get, like…REALLY mad if I deviate from canon and put Alex's birthday in, like, August / September instead of January / February, which is canon? Like, it'll work if you'll just be traumatized or whatever, but I'd prefer to move it. Just let me know! **

**THANK YOU to all my wonderful amazing incredible beautiful reviewers!: Cortanacordeliacarstairs, Padfoot's Marauder, Fangirl all da way, LoveRider, reginamare, Guest, ClarenzaK, Gabrielle Nightingale, agent potter, KC, NeleeWW, otterpineapple06, Riderkitty, Ichigo1217, no-time-to-read, seth 8627, Charlie, Buddels, fa6imah.2000, HeroofOlympus24, Gwennwyfar, Mae, Johanna, GLC rider, Weirdo, Guest, and CatsRtheBest!**

**Cortanacordeliacarstairs (21): LOL good luck on your test! And hahaha I'm glad you think so! I just get so excited when I finish the chapters XD **

**Cortanacordeliacarstairs (20): ;)**

**LoveRider: Omg no worries dude! And thank you!**

**Reginamare: Lol I feel that XD Hahaha no takeout, Alex was sleepy, lol. And hehehehe ;) Ohhhhh nice! I haven't watched Sherlock in a while, but DUDE season 4 just MESSED me up. I think I really like the episode where John and Mary finally have their baby XD it's so cute watching Sherlock try to interact with her. And haha no worries!**

**Guest (okay, it's 11:02pm here, GMT…): AHHH THANK YOU! Hehehehe I took your advice XD**

**KC: Thanks so much!**

**Charlie; I'm so glad you liked it! Hahaha yeah me too. Thanks!**

**Mae: LOL it totally was. Thanks so much! **

**Johanna: DANKE!**

**Weirdo: Your reviews always make me smile :) I'm glad you liked everything! I'm glad you liked K-Unit's debut XD Lion and Tiger in protective mode is the GOAT. Ahhhhh thanks so much! You too! **

**CatsRtheBest: OMG thanks!**

**Guest (Will L-Unit ask about SCORPIA again…?): ;)**

**…**

**THANKS SO SO MUCH FOR BEING AWESOME AND SUPPORTIVE AND WONDERFUL! Please drop a review!**


	23. Chapter 22

**Hello! Disclaimer: I haven't read the original AR books in a while, and the Alex Rider wiki fandom site was super not helpful for researching Tom's personality, so I'm…going for it. I'm going for a class-clown nice-guy vibe? That sounds like the Tom I remember, and I feel like that would really nicely complement Alex's quieter, more private personality. Let me know what you think! Happy reading! **

"Tom?"

My gut dropped in utter shock as I locked eyes with Tom past Tiger and Lion. I felt myself sag onto my crutches as my knees shifted and the blood rushed to my head, but I couldn't look away.

It had been so, so long since I'd seen him.

Tom's eyes widened, and all he could do for a few seconds was stare at me, his eyes raking over my broken form, his lips apart in words that refused to come. His hands shook. There was a bruise on his cheek, a rucksack on his back. He looked pale and exhausted.

And then he was dropping the bulging rucksack off his back and literally _ducking_ under Lion and Tiger's arms, ignoring their yells of alarm, skidding down the hallway, and throwing his arms around my shoulders before I could even process what was happening.

It _hurt_. My side screamed, and my leg couldn't take the weight, and my hands and wrist were aching. My throat ached. Everything ached.

I didn't move.

"You _bastard_," he yelled into my shoulder, his arms tight enough to hurt. "You just—you just _cut me off_ and don't call me for _ages_, I don't know if you're alive or dead or captured or held bloody hostage somewhere, and I don't know if those bastards have you off on a mission, o-or something worse, and then you—you just _call me_ out of nowhere and tell me you're bloody dying and that—that I'm an awesome mate? What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?"

The words were shouted and abrasive and angry, _so_ angry, but he was shaking. He was _shaking_ and I'd never seen Tom like this.

"Tom—"

"_No_," he yelled, and I heard the crack in his voice now. His fingers were digging into my shoulders, and I felt blood leak from one of the smaller cuts on my left shoulder, but I still didn't move. "No, you don't get to bloody _do_ that. You don't—not after everything, everything you told me, everything I did for you and you—you—you call me and—"

His words ended in a choked cadence of pain, and I felt tears pricking my eyes as I carefully wrapped one of my arms around his shoulders, the other balanced precariously on the crutch. "I'm sorry." My voice was toneless in shock and pain and—and something else, because—because it was _Tom_. And Tom was _here_.

"You don't get to be bloody sorry," he said, and the words were almost inaudible. "I thought you were _dead_. All you said was Cookham. Do you have any bloody idea how _big_ Cookham is? And you act like—like I'm just going to accept it and move on? Just say, _oh, yeah, you too, great mate, you_, and hang up on you and leave you to _die_? You don't get to die, Alex, you—you son of a bitch, I still can't believe you did that to me. God, I'm so _mad_ at you…"

I could hear the tears in his voice then, and a wave of soul-crushing, heart-wrenching guilt flooded me as I thought about what would've happened if I'd…if I'd succeeded.

What would have happened if Tom had scoured the city, only to turn up at this flat and find out from L-Unit that…that I'd died? That I'd killed myself and he was the last person I'd spoken to, the only one who knew? I couldn't—I couldn't imagine how—

The guilt was enough to make my knees weak, and Tom went from crushing me to supporting me. "Alex?" His voice was tight with panic, but I was too busy drowning in my own guilt to hear him.

"I'm so sorry," I choked out, and I felt—I felt something break. Inside me. Deep, deep inside me, because…Tom knew. He knew everything. He knew about MI6, about Sarov, and Cray and Grief and Sayle, and my crush on Sabina, and how I'd wanted to be a famous football player when I was in primary school, and SCORPIA and Drevin, and my parents, and how I'd kissed Alexa Diaz behind the football bleachers in Year 8, and—and he was the only one, and it felt so _good_ to know that he was still here.

And that I was still here.

"I'm so, so sorry," I said again, and it was building and swelling, the grief and the agony and the _relief_, and eventually, we had to sit. My legs wouldn't hold me anymore, and the bullet wound throbbed. And he sat on the floor of the strangers' flat with me as I cried, as I cried and I think he cried because I'd almost died and Tom was _here_ and—and…

And it was so much more than just enough.

I continued to pour out apologies, and Tom didn't tell me it was okay, because it wasn't, and he knew it, and I knew it. He didn't let go of me, and I felt him shaking, and I heard him sniffling. And he'd really thought I was dead, and I really thought I was going to die, and—and the full force of that finally hit me when he showed up at the door in the middle of the night, demanding that strangers—trained SAS soldiers—answer his questions, or he wasn't leaving.

And I wondered how I'd possibly survived the past year without him at my side.

Bear and Lion and Tiger didn't say a word. They just watched us as we fell apart in their foyer, and I couldn't even be upset about it.

…

"Jerry says you're a bloody idiot, and he's going to deck you next time he sees you," Tom said as he hung up the phone, accepting the mug of tea from Bear with a grateful smile. "And that he's glad you're okay. I didn't tell him you weren't, because he's stressed enough as it is. And I'm going to deck you myself once you're better."

I smirked, and my eyes were still itchy and red, but I couldn't fathom that Tom was sitting with me on L-Unit's sofa drinking tea. It wasn't something I'd ever thought would happen. "You're still living in Italy with him?"

"Mm-hm," he said mid-sip, pulling back at the steaming heat. "Ow. Shit. Yeah, Mum and Dad are still in the trenches. I actually think they've run off two sets of neighbors with their yelling. An idiotic marriage counselor suggested they try working things out, and _that's_ going well."

I smiled as I watched him talk, animated and lively, accompanied by gesticulations that bordered on manic. The gestures and his tone and his expressions were so familiar that it almost seemed like nothing had changed. It was nice to know that he could still go from yelling at me one minute to joking with me the next. Our fights never lasted long, and it left a warm feeling in my stomach to know that it hadn't changed.

I had a distinct feeling I'd be answering for my actions later, but for now, it was…almost normal.

"So you're the Tom from Italy?" Lion asked from the armchair, yawning. Tiger was sat in the other one, and Bear was leaning against the tellie stand, blinking heavily.

"I dunno what you've heard, but it's probably all true," Tom said seriously. "You're Alex's SAS unit?"

"L-Unit," Bear said with a sleepy smile. "I'm Bear. I'm the medic. I have to patch him up much more than I'd like to."

I laughed under my breath as Tom rolled his eyes. "Don't even get me started. Al's a trouble magnet like you've never seen."

"Oi," I laughed, and it hurt, and it felt good. "I'm not that bad."

"Oh, you lying bastard," Tiger muttered, glaring at me. "You've been nothing _but_ trouble." Two months ago, the comment would've unnerved and annoyed, but all I did was smile. I was glad Tiger and I had come far enough to make that easy.

Tom snorted. "Yeah. What's your name?"

"Tiger."

"Ah. Makes sense. Suits you."

Tiger lifted an eyebrow as Lion chuckled under his breath, stretching again. "I'm Lion. Nice to meet you, Tom."

"You, too," he said with a smile. "Sorry I yelled at you. I'm bloody tired and this is, like, the fiftieth flat I've been to."

"Did you plan to check every flat in Cookham?" I asked incredulously, sipping my own tea.

"God, no. I think you forget sometimes that I _am_ street smart. You said you were in Cookham with an SAS group, so I figured you wouldn't have a house, because you're rarely in it, so I called all the apartment buildings in Cookham and asked if they had any all-male flats who gave off military vibes. You'd be amazed what people will tell you when you call and say you're taking a survey for Cambridge's social science division."

I almost choked on my tea, I laughed so hard. Tom really didn't change.

Tom grinned as I continued laughing under my breath, saying, "Yeah, and so I wrote all the locations down. Jerry loaned me money for the red-eye into London, then I took the train here and started checking off boxes. I got this stumbling across what I think was a meth lab," Tom pointed to the bruise on his cheek, showing it off like a battle scar, obviously very proud of his war wound. "I called the cops on them. Apparently they'd been smuggling drugs out of that dump for years. So I did a service.

"And then I found this one, and Tiger and Lion yelled at me. Sorry for breaking into your flat, by the way."

Lion waved a hand, smiling as he watched the scene. "Just don't make a habit of it."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Tom said, tentatively sipping his cooling tea. "Al, what's your code name?"

"Hm? Oh, my SAS codename? Jaguar. They call me Jag a lot, though."

Tom snorted. "Oh, mate. That's way too cool for you. You'd be…I dunno, maybe an Owl, or something. You're always super quiet, but then you say something that just shocks the whole room into silence, and then you don't know how to deal with the attention."

I grinned. God, I'd missed Tom. "And you're the expert on owls, are you?"

"Oh, like you're the expert on jaguars? Jaguars are _awesome_."

"And I'm not?"

"You are, and I know you're too humble for your own good, but I'm not going to let you develop an ego. I'm being a good friend."

I laughed again, and it was so _easy_. I hadn't laughed this much in a long time. Since before Jack, since—well, since Tom. "You're mad, you know that?"

"With pride," he confirmed, taking another sip of tea. "I'm really glad you're okay, though. You really scared me."

I sobered, my smile dropping slowly, and looked down. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm…I'm sorry, mate."

"You should be. I'm glad you called me, though. Otherwise I probably wouldn't have seen you until your bloody funeral, and then I would've had to die and haunt you forever."

I smirked, but it was a little more subdued than before. "Sounds like you."

Silence washed over the room, and Tom took another sip of tea.

"Okay, well, it's been lovely," Bear said, stretching his back and stumbling to his feet, looking exhausted. "I'm going to bed. You've been keeping me up way too bloody much," he said with a look in my direction. "Don't get hurt anymore."

I smiled, grateful for all his help and support and concern. "I'll try. Thanks."

"I second that," Tiger said. "G'night. Don't destroy the place, please."

"Oh, do you mind if I…crash on your sofa?" Tom asked a little hesitantly over the rim of his mug, glancing between the three SAS soldiers towering over him.

Lion sighed, good-natured and patient, and _God_ I didn't deserve them. "Of course. I've never seen Jag laugh this much. We might need to keep you around."

I blushed, looking quickly away, and scratched my ear. "Geez, Lion."

Lion laughed, ruffling my hair. "Don't stay up too late."

I raised an incredulous eyebrow, but he just smirked before continuing down the hallway.

"Oh, you have a built-in nanny," Tom said as Lion and the others left. "That's good. You need some supervision." He paused, his brow drawing taut in thought. "Speaking of which, what happened to Jack? Did she end up back in America?"

I'd…been expecting the question, but it didn't make it any easier to hear. I shifted, looking down, and set my tea on the ground by the sofa, hissing as my leg and side wounds pulled. "I guess I…I should catch you up, mate."

And I did. It took…a long time. Well over an hour. I started with Cairo, and Jack, and Tom was shocked into sympathetic silence, unexpected grief stealing his words. I knew he'd really loved Jack. I kept going, telling him about Sabina, and Tom put a hand over his mouth and looked at the blank tellie, white as a ghost. And then I told him about the homeless shelters and how awful it was being alone, and how many times I'd wanted to call him, and how many times I'd convinced myself he was better off without me.

He smacked my good leg, then let me continue.

I told him about the grueling selection process, about L-Unit, about how awful it had been in the beginning and how incredible it was now. I told him about Hollis, and Tom's eyes clouded with horror and murder before I edged past the subject, and then I told him about the sepsis and the conversation in the hospital with L-Unit, including how I'd mentioned him.

I continued on to tell him about my recovery here, and how much I'd gotten to know L-Unit. I told him small things about L-Unit. I didn't want to spill their secrets or compromise their trust in me, so I kept the private things private. Instead I told him about what an amazing Lion leader was, and how I wanted to be something like him in time. About how he'd been so amazing and supportive and kind.

I told him about Tiger, and how I'd punched him in the jaw at the beginning, and how we regularly got coffee and talked about nothing, now. I told him about Bear, and how he'd been so helpful after my nightmare and during our time in that dirt cellar, and how he went to the youth center all the time. I told him about how much I'd come to cherish them and this place, and Tom smiled.

And then I told him about K-Unit. I laughed when he scowled, remembering all too well my less-than-stellar description of them after my first round at Brecon Beacons, but he was pleased to hear they'd grown up some. I wouldn't be trusting them with much, other than Fox, but…at least we had somewhere to start, and that was enough for now.

I paused, then, and worked up the nerve to tell him about the SCORPIA assassin and…and my thoughts after receiving the letter. The words came quickly, and I rushed to spit them out before I could change my mind, picking at the hem of my oversized t-shirt and looking resolutely at the blanket in my lap.

I paused again, glancing up when he didn't say anything. His eyes were blank, and Tom was…well, he was one of the most expressive people I knew. Seeing his expression so blank was…unsettling.

"You tried to…to kill yourself?" He asked quietly, his eyes narrowing the slightest bit.

I took a settling breath, nodding once. "I…I thought about it. And then I was going to, but…" I smiled a little, remembering the irony. "I was…hurt too bad."

"And you called me to…"

I shifted. "I knew that…that no one would know to tell you, that I was gone. And I figured…I'd left you hanging long enough. I'm really, really sorry, Tom. I didn't…I didn't want to die, I think. I think I just…" I hesitated, shaking my head and pushing my bangs back. "I just wanted it to…stop. I was tired of running, and I was afraid I'd have to…to run again, after the assassin. I'm still afraid I'll have to. But…"

I shrugged, glancing over my shoulder at the hallway, smiling. "I don't know. I don't think they're going to let me. I don't think you are, either."

"You bet your arse I'm not," Tom said, his voice thin and watery and uncertain. "_Al_. Why did you—why did you let it get so bad? Why didn't you call me?"

He echoed his words from that night, and I shrugged, guilty and uncertain and nervous. "You got shot, Tom. That's not…that's not something you just forget about."

"…so? Chicks dig the scar. I can't tell you the number of girls' phone numbers I've gotten from this thing." He patted his left leg just above his knee. His smile was much dimmer than usual.

I smiled a little, too, but we both knew he didn't have anything to refute my statement. "I dunno, Tom. I just…after Jack and Sabina…it seems like I'm not really meant to have…have those things, you know? A home, and…and family."

"Stop right there," Tom said, eyes narrowed and resolute, a complete shift from the uncertain kid he'd been just seconds before. "If you need to, you can _always_ come stay with me and Jerry. That's a home. Literally, you clueless, ignorant bastard. And…and I feel like I graduated from friend when I, you know, helped you BASE jump into a terrorist cell."

I smirked, but my mind was reeling from the words, because…Lion had said them, a variation of them, but coming from Tom…they just meant a lot more, because Tom _knew_ what he was signing up for, and he was offering to anyways.

Tom glanced at the pictures on the wall and looked around the living room. "Plus, they seem like really cool blokes. Super badarse. And they seem to care a lot about you, and you seem really attached to them."

I smiled. "Yeah."

"Yeah. Case in point. You need to get it through your thick, idiotic skull that you don't get to choose whether we're in your life or not. I feel like I proved that. And next time you want to ghost me, Alex, I'm actually going to turn you _into_ a ghost."

I laughed, feeling warm, and…and loved, and…happy that I was alive. Truly. "How long did it take you to come up with that?"

"Oh, you don't understand," he said, raising a hand in testament, readjusting himself. "I spent the entire 3-hour plane ride and then the 2-hour train ride drafting the eulogy I was going to read at your funeral after I murdered you. That was, maybe…I dunno, forty minutes in. I got creative after that."

I grinned, and it felt _so_ amazing to just be able to…talk. To talk properly and not have to worry about what was being said, or what I was giving away, or how much I was letting slip. To talk and know that Tom knew it all, and he would accept it all, and he would remain there after I'd said it all.

Tom was…well, he was Tom. And…once again, I didn't deserve him at all.

"…thanks a lot," I said quietly, nudging his knee with my foot to get his attention. "For coming. For…for being willing to come out here in the middle of the night and…and literally search _Cookham_ for me."

Tom paused, glancing at me, and rolled his eyes. "Please, Al. If I'd made that call to you, you'd've stormed Naples with representatives from ASIS, the CIA, MI6, India, the SAS…mate, you would've brought the UN down on that city to find me. I know you would've."

I shifted, blushing, but he wasn't wrong. Had our roles been reversed…I would've torn Naples apart.

"I wasn't going to leave you on your own," he said, his tone rigid in finality. "Not a chance. And I'm not going to do it now, so…so you can't leave. Going AWOL or…or dying. Promise me, right now."

I looked at him, and his eyes were unusually dark, absolutely serious, and afraid. Fear boiled behind the steel in his blue eyes, and I realized he was very, very serious, and…and it felt so good to know that he still cared that much.

I'd met Tom when we were eight. I'd stumbled across him as he was being mercilessly teased by three eleven-year-olds. I was quite small for my age, but Tom was tiny—he had no chance. I'd started karate at five, so I knew a few things, and…well, I really couldn't leave him there.

I'd stepped in, shown off a few karate moves on one of the bigger boys, which had sent him straight into a fit of tears. He'd limped off with his two friends. Tom had been resolutely fighting back tears, but he looked…somewhat awestruck, and it'd made me uncomfortable. I soon discovered that it was his first day at my school, and he happened to be in my class. I offered to walk him, and asked him if he liked football.

Eight years later…he was making me promise not to die. Not to leave. Not to give up. Sitting on a stranger's sofa, burdened with the knowledge of everything that I'd been through, and he was still here.

I supposed it only fair that…that I stay, too.

When we were ten, we'd quickly decided we'd be best mates forever. Unfortunately, the phrase was far too girly to be acceptable, so we put the sentiment into a handshake of sorts. We'd slap our right hands together twice, bump our fists together sideways, and then touch our third and fourth fingers to our palms (as our mutual favorite superhero was Spiderman).

We hadn't done it in years, quickly outgrowing the childish routine. However, I smiled a little, and put my hand out.

Tom's eyes lit up with a mischief I'd missed, and he knew exactly what to do.

I laughed at the end, the routine bringing me back to much happier, much simpler days, when my biggest worries were of whether or not Jack would burn dinner or Ian would be home when I got there. When Tom and I would spend hours in the park with our other friends, playing footie or snooker at the local recreation center.

The routine was my answer, and Tom knew that.

"Thanks for being here," I said, smiling, wondering again what I'd done to deserve him.

He shrugged. "Where else would I be?"

And it was such an easy answer, and…and God, I'd missed him.

We talked long into the night, about Tom's life for the past year, about what I might do now that SCORPIA knew where I was, about the girl Tom had his sights on, about his parents' divorce, about how L-unit didn't know my age, and what I'd do after they found out. It was an eclectic conversations that, out of context, would have seemed to come from utterly mad participants.

But it was easy, and…and so much more than enough.

…

"Alex. Oi. _Alex_."

That was unpleasant. For once in my life, I was enjoying a dreamless sleep.

"Al. I'm bored, mate. Come on."

Hazily, dredging my mind completely from the bliss of sleep, I opened my eyes.

"I hate you," I mumbled, putting my pillow over my head so I didn't have to see or hear Tom anymore.

"I'm bored, and I'm your guest. Entertain me."

"You're bloody old enough to entertain yourself." I wondered if he understood from underneath the pillow. It was a tossup.

He took the pillow, despite my adamant resistance, and tossed it to the foot of the bed. "I made breakfast."

"And we're not all dying of smoke inhalation?" I asked incredulously, levering myself up carefully, hissing at my stitches pulled. "Ow, _shit_."

Tom paused by the door, looking back. His eyes were worried. "Are you okay?"

I waved a hand, carefully lowering my injured leg to the floor before grabbing my crutches. My knuckles and wrists hurt like hell, but I wasn't going to spend two weeks in the bed, so this was my only other option. "I'm fine. Just got…well, kind of stabbed. But only a little."

Tom looked at me with absolutely no reaction, blinked, and looked at the ceiling, a long-suffering sigh falling from his lips. "Give me grace. Bloody hell, mate, did you turn into a bulls-eye when I wasn't looking?"

I shrugged, smiling a little. The familiar banter was nice, and easy. "Are the others awake?"

"Lion and Tiger are," Tom said, waiting for me as I limped over to him, watching me like a hawk as I made my way carefully down the hall. "Or Danny and Sam. That feels better than calling them animals."

I laughed under my breath. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to think of them as anything but Lion and Tiger, but knock yourself out."

"Morning," Tiger said over his coffee, watching the tea kettle expectantly.

"Morning," I said, wincing as I lowered myself into a chair, lifting my bad leg onto the other open chair for elevation. "Tom said he cooked. Are you feeling poisoned yet?"

Lion laughed a little from behind the newspaper, folding it up as Tom crossed to the stove to finish with something. "No, it was actually pretty good."

"Hm," I said dubiously.

"I get up and slave away in the kitchen for you and you can't even be impressed," Tom said as he put a plate in front of me, complete with scrambled eggs and toast with jam. "I'm slathering everything in butter from now on."

I scowled. He knew I didn't care for butter. "Arse."

"Eat and be grateful."

I sighed, and did. Honestly, it wasn't too bad. The eggs were the slightest bit runny, and the jam-to-toast ratio was a bit questionable, but it was…pretty good.

"Okay," I mumbled through a bite of toast. "I'm impressed. I thought I'd be swallowing egg shells, to be honest."

Tom rolled his eyes, sitting down with his own plate. "Ye of little faith. How do you stand him?"

Tiger snorted. "I wonder sometimes."

I smiled through my bite of eggs, glad that Tom was getting on with my unit. I wasn't worried, really—Tom could get on with just about anybody. I'd always been more reserved, preferring to have a small circle of close friends, so I was never wildly popular. I wasn't overtly disliked by anyone (to my knowledge) until the "druggie" rumor started floating around, but I wasn't much for the spotlight.

Tom could strike up a conversation with a mute and carry it all on his own, if you let him. I couldn't remember him ever meeting anyone that he hadn't gotten on with, at least at first. His quick humor and comedic nature, coupled with the fact that underneath all that he was…genuinely really kind, made every feel at ease around him.

I'd really missed that.

"Alex," Lion said, startling me from my thoughts as I polished off the milk, glancing at him. "D'you mind if K-Unit comes over this afternoon? They texted this morning. Wolf and Fox really want to check on you, and they want to try to get to know us as a unit."

He glanced at Tom. "But if you'd rather wait, that's fine."

"Oh, the famous K-Unit?" Tom said before I could even open my mouth. "No, they're coming over. I have a lot of choice words for those bastards."

Lion blinked, obviously not having expected that, and Tiger shot Tom an affronted look on their behalf. I pinched the bridge of my nose, sighing. "Tom, you—you have the social skills of a politician, and then you turn around and say something like that, and I'm reminded that you probably have no idea what the word _tact_ means."

Tom shrugged. "Best mate, you should really be used to all the contradictions in my personality by now."

"I'm—I'm lost," Lion admitted, glancing between me and Tom. "Did we miss something?"

At the same time I opened my mouth to tell them they hadn't missed a single thing, Tom said, "Oh, when Alex went to Brecon Beacons the first time, K-Unit were a load of arseholes to him. Seriously. They sucked."

"_God_, Tom," I muttered, dragging a hand down my face.

"What? You said they knew!"

"You didn't have to embellish it!" I took a deep breath. "Seriously. We're fine now. Eagle and Snake really ignored me, for the most part, and so did Fox. I got to know him better…later. Wolf, too. Wolf was kind of an arsehole, but I got him back, and now we're even and on good terms. Really. There's no problem."

I wouldn't be spilling my life story to them anytime soon, of course. I didn't trust them much as a unit, save Fox. But…working with them, I could probably handle.

Tiger eyed me dubiously, but Lion's eyes were overtly suspicious. "No, I don't like that they didn't treat you well. I don't want you to have to work with them if you're not comfortable with it."

"I was kind of dropped on them without warning," I provided, feeling my face heat and my heart race. I put my hands under the table to hide the shaking. I didn't like where the conversation was headed, and made a mental note to murder Tom later. "Seriously. We really are fine now. Promise."

Lion still looked dubious, but I thought some of it may be because he and Fox hadn't gotten on right away. "Fine. If you're uncomfortable, let me know, and we can push it back."

"Oh, I like you," Tom commented, taking a bite of toast. "Thanks for forcing him to acknowledge that it's alright to be uncomfortable."

I put my head in my arms on the table. They were ganging up on me, now.

"My condolences, Jag," Tiger deadpanned, rising when the tea kettle finally started to boil. "I guess you have three mothers now."

Wonderful.

…

Tom, still jetlagged and horribly exhausted from his trek around the city, crashed in Elliot's room a little while later for a nap. Bear, once he'd finally gotten out of bed, had gone to the youth center for a basketball game between two of the Year 11 teams, and Tiger had some errands to run. K-Unit would be coming for dinner later that night, and for some reason, no one in this flat ever seemed to be able to make a decent grocery run. We'd probably end up getting takeaway, anyways.

I was dozing on the sofa, still exhausted from my injuries and the lingering effects of the sepsis, when I heard Lion sit in the armchair. I blinked awake, stretching as much as I could, wincing at the movement. "Hey."

"Morning," he chuckled, taking a sip of soda. "How're you feeling?"

I shrugged, settling back against the sofa and adjusting my propped leg, hissing at the pain. "In a good bit of pain, but it's getting better."

He nodded. "Good. I cancelled your therapy and PT appointments for the next couple weeks."

"Oh, thanks," I said, surprised. I'd completely forgotten about those.

Lion nodded again, glancing out the window. "We need to…figure out what we're going to tell the Sergeant. Bear swears you'll be cleared for active duty by late January, even with the new injuries, but I want to make sure you can have more time if you need it."

I blinked slowly, glancing at the table, and felt my eyes narrow in worry. "I'm not really…really sure what to tell him."

"Well, we could always say you were mugged," he said, pausing. A small smile curled his lips, and he glanced at me. "You know they'd almost fired the Sergeant six times?"

I blinked. That was…a really high number for such a high ranking government official. The Sergeant of the SAS had almost as much power as the Deputy Head of MI6. "That's ridiculous. Why?"

Lion chuckled, obviously remembering something. "They say—despite his hardarse exterior, of course—that he cares too much about his soldiers. Those times he almost got fired, he was breaking protocol or keeping secrets to make sure his soldiers were alright. He always puts them above the mission, and the brass doesn't like that."

I looked at him intently, and I could already see where this was going. I absently rubbed the bullet wound on my leg, the ache grounding me to the present. "I don't know if I can tell him, Lion."

He nodded. "You don't have to, but…it's an option. I can almost guarantee that he'll know what to do. Or at least, he'll try to support you."

I smiled absently. From what I remembered…well, the Sergeant hadn't been too bad the first time I'd been there. He'd been tough, sure, but no tougher on me than the other soldiers. And I was ninety percent sure he'd let me pickpocket that box of matches.

"…I'll think about it," I conceded, knowing I'd probably never have the courage to talk to the Sergeant about any of this, but knowing that the answer would please Lion.

"That's all I ask. Until then, we'll just…say you were mugged, and you didn't want to file a report. Sound okay?"

"He's going to be suspicious."

Lion raised an eyebrow. "Everything about you is suspicious. This will be another grain of rice in the bowl."

I scowled, but knew he was right, and acquiesced.

"You seem a lot better," he mentioned quietly, looking at me intently.

I shifted under his gaze, but smiled a little. "I…haven't seen Tom in a really long time. I forgot how much I…you know. I really missed him."

Lion smiled. "He's good for you. I've never seen you smile this much."

I laughed a little. "Yeah, he…he can make anybody laugh. He's a little more honest with me, just because I know him so well, but…but with everybody else, I rarely see him _not_ smiling. And he's hilarious. He made Ian laugh a lot after he'd been around a while. Ian didn't laugh much, unless it was with me and—"

I stopped, the name dying on my lips, and looked away. Pain flared in my chest, and I took a deep breath, feeling my cracked ribs protest. "…and Jack. I haven't…told you about her yet."

Lion's face was intrigued, but his eyes were calm. "Do you want to?"

After a second of hesitation, weighing my options and taking stock of my mentality…I shook my head. "Not…not now. Soon."

Lion nodded, smiled. "Okay then. When you're ready."

I smiled gratefully, leaning back against the sofa. "Thanks."

There were a few seconds of silence, and I relished the knowledge that Tom was just a few meters away. It was a surreal feeling, even after having him here for so many hours, and…and I could get used to it. I knew he wouldn't be able to stay, but…I supposed I…I could talk to him again. Call him, and text him. Maybe visit, if things ever settled down.

It felt like so many doors had been opened, and the future looked just a little brighter.

"He's really small for a nineteen-year-old," Lion commented absently, glancing towards the hallway.

That was good. He missed the look of panic the contorted my features before I got a handle on things, remembering that Tom and I had planned for this question."

"He's almost seventeen," I provided, which was true. His birthday was five months before mine, and he turned seventeen in March. "I got held back, so I was a year above him in school. We were on the football team together, and I set some bullies straight for him on his first day."

I hoped the lie was believable. I hated lying to Lion, but…well, the alternative was much more debilitating.

"Oh," Lion said, looking satisfied.

My gut writhed. Too easy. The lie was bitter.

But it was one crisis averted, and I wasn't going to complain.

I heard Tom come out of the room a few minutes later. Lion had turned on the tellie, and we'd been watching in silence; Tom made enough noise for a hoard of elephants, and made himself known as soon as he stepped into the living room.

"Al, the next time you make me search a city for you, I'm going to make you stay up for forty-eight hours and you tell me how it feels," he griped, plopping next to me on the sofa. "You suck."

Lion chuckled as I rolled my eyes. "You know my record is three days. That's easy."

Tom pursed his lips. "Then I'm going to make you run a marathon and _then_ stay up for two days."

"I'm quaking."

Tom yawned and shoved a hand through his spiky hair, looking utterly exhausted. "Is K-Unit here yet? Because after I yell at them, I'm going back to sleep."

"You're not going to yell at an SAS unit, Tom. They could snap you like a twig."

Tom glared at me. "Please. They have to catch me first."

I laughed, and Lion laughed, having been listening. And it felt like my worlds were colliding in an earth-shattering, devastating collision, and when the dust and ash finally settled…it felt like something new had been made. Something…something good.

Because if Tom was my past, and Lion and L-Unit and maybe even K-Unit were my present…well, the future didn't look so bleak anymore.

**A/N: Hi um where can I buy a Tom I need one. Everyone needs a Tom.**

***Oprah: YOU get a Tom! YOU get a Tom!***

**Hehe yeah anyways. TOM! I hope you love him as much as I do! And Alex the BABY he's so happy to have his best mate back I loooooooooove them so much. Let me know what you thought!**

**Um. I got. Over thirty? Reviews? That's WILD. Thank you SO MUCH: scarlettmeadows, Guest, Gabrielle Nightingale, ElNonie, Em0Wolf, Guest, Charlie, Guest, Guest, Dobby and Padfoot, Guest, Deeecode, onedemoniclily, Gwennwyfar, Riderkitty, Buddels, aSkyFullofStarz, AlexRiderFan, Night Riders, Simitria, Momo2244, Padfoot's Marauder, CortanaCordeliacarstairs, Johanna, ClarenzaK, reginamare, Weirdo, Ichigo1217, Guest, Guest, Fangtasia21, and Asilrettor!**

**Guest (This is a really great story and I love…): Ahhh thanks so much! Lol no he is definitely not that **

**Em0Wolf: Ohhh camping, nice! And hahaha thanks s much! Yeah K-Unit got the shock of their lives. And TOM! Sweet boy. Well he's sixteen by now, so that helps a little, and the partners in crime came up with a believable lie, so…we'll see what happens ;)**

**Guest (Will this be Tom/Alex): Nope! Just friendship :) I'm not huge on writing romance. Thanks for the question!**

**Charlie: LOL glad I made you laugh XD and okay, thanks! Hahaha thanks! Omg no I ADORE long reviews, make it as long as you want!**

**Guest (Thank you so much for the new chapter): Ahhhh thanks so much! I know Bear's a precious love. Hahahaha Alex is so blasé about it now he's just like "yeah that's how it be" I know TOM! He does omg I'm glad he's here I love him**

**AlexRiderFan: *cries* omg thank you for saying all that bc that's exactly what I'm going for. Thank you so much. God bless you too! And TOM I know!**

**Cortanacordeliacarstairs: Hey! Yeah, he's not going to stop his progress with L-Unit, but he'll definitely be keeping things close to the vest around K-Unit for a little while. Hehehe hope you liked all the Tom XD**

**Johanna: Ahhh vielen Dank! Ich weiß, Löwe ist so schützend, Bär ist so schützend, und Tiger ist ein Ball von Flaum. Alex verdient die Welt. Hehe du hast mich ;D Danke! Ich kenne den armen Tom...Danke!**

**Reginamare: I KNOW TOM! Haha you didn't, no worries! And no I love getting suggestions! If I don't think it'll work I won't use it, so no worries, give me all the suggestions! Hahaha thanks so much! SAME. Hahaha I agree! **

**Weirdo: AHHHH I'M SO GLAD! Of course, they really do! I know everyone's the best, and Bear is PRECIOUS. I know I love Elliot! I didn't think I'd be mentioning him so much, but I'm realizing that he was a huge part of their lives, so I have to XD I know Yassen and Ian and that whole dynamic just completely flabbergasted Tiger XD Tiger's a ball of fluff. And TOM IS THE BEST I KNOW! Ahhhh thanks so much, and I hope this was enough Tom for you XD**

**Guest (Hi! I am curious if you'd be willing to share some of your favorite books…): …I read this and honestly almost cried because…omg that was so sweet. I really want to write novels one day and the fact that you would want to read them is…so encouraging. Thank you, really. And of course! I REALLY love Percy Jackson (my favorite book series) and I really like I Am the Messenger by Marcus Zusak. Riders by Veronica Rossi is AWESOME. I also really like Six of Crows, and the Nancy Drew series XD I LOVE the Sherilyn Kenyon books, and the Michael Vey books, and…well, I love a lot of books. ALSO THE IRON FAY SERIES BY JULIE KAGAWA IS INSANE. Hope this'll help you for a while! Thanks so much again :D**

**Guest (Please update): Here you go!**

**Deeecode (Please update soon): Here you are!**

**Fangtasia21: Hehehehe not quite yet, but we're getting there XD**

**…**

**As always, you're all amazing and wonderful and sweet and encouraging. Thanks :)**


	24. Special Extra!

**Special Extra!**

**Hey! So, this isn't a chapter :( but! I hope you like it anyways! I read a lot of Webtoon Comics, and something I've seen a lot of authors do is do little character profiles, and now that we've introduced all the main characters, I wanted to try it!**

**Hope you like it :) I had a lot of fun with it! :D **

**Obviously I made everything up for most of the characters, including K-Unit because there isn't a lot on them, but some of the Alex and Tom and Ben stuff is from me and some of it is from the Alex Rider wiki site **

**Alex Rider / Matthew Smith / Jaguar / Cub**

Age: 16 (but only Fox and Tom know that) / 19

Birthday: August 17th (Leo)

Height: 5'7" (170 cm)

Personality: Quiet and serious, sarcastic, funny if you get to know him; very self-sacrificing, kind, helpful. He's _super_ protective and ridiculously loyal, but he has trouble with his self-worth and his place in the world

Biggest Flaw: refuses to realize people want to help him; he feels like he needs to keep people at a distance because it makes him feel safer

Likes: traveling, outdoors, football, soft clothes, American music, animals, Coke

Dislikes: MI6 (duh), butter, the dark, small spaces, being alone, spiders, driving (he's too young but he's had to before and it's not his cup of tea), being taken advantage of, guns, his dark hair (he preferred it fair)

Hidden Talents: he's really good at shooting crossbows; Ian took him hunting with them sometimes

Trivia: he's onychophagiac (bites his nails), he likes watching documentaries, his favorite color is clear ocean blue

**Tom Harris**

Age: 16

Birthday: March 2nd (Pisces)

Height: 5'4" (162cm)

Personality: He's always cheerful and super funny, and can get along with anyone he meets. He's fiercely loyal and will do literally anything for the people important to him. Super loyal.

Biggest Flaw: he has a bad habit of hiding his real feelings because he likes making others feel good, so he often puts up fronts

Likes: football, eating out, hanging out with Jerry, ice cream, rap music

Dislikes: his parents fighting, seafood, bullies, reptiles, when Alex doesn't talk to him

Hidden Talents: he can shoot football goals with his eyes closed and make most of them even with a keeper in

Trivia: he's allergic to peanuts, he had a crush on Jack when he was nine, and his favorite color is dark orange; he also doesn't like the pressure of being captain of the football team, but he stays because everybody says he does a good job, despite that

**Lion / Daniel Walker / Danny**

Age: 27

Birthday: February 21st (Pisces)

Height: 6'1" (185 cm)

Personality: he has a sense of humor, but he's mostly really sincere and kind. He genuinely wants to help those around him and is incredibly loyal, like Tom (and Alex)

Biggest Flaw: sometimes he can be kind of clingy and insecure because he didn't have a lot of family growing up, so he's really attached to the ones he has now (but they don't mind so it's okay)

Likes: spending time with his family (L-Unit included), playing sports, going to church, target practice (helps him release stress), Indian food, Chinese food, animals, and surprisingly, classical music

Dislikes: oranges, alcohol, his father (who is a stain on humanity), Thai food, when Alex is being stupid about his self-worth, when his unit is in danger

Hidden Talents: he's actually really good at the piano; he could never pay for lessons, but his music teacher in high school helped him learn because he had a natural talent for it

Trivia: he loves animals but he's allergic to cats, not really a fan of heights, favorite color is sky blue, he's nondenominational and is really intentional about his faith (it really helped him get through his childhood and he's grown in it now)

**Tiger / Samuel Okinawa / Sam**

Age: 24

Birthday: March 21st (Aries)

Height: 5'10" (177cm)

Personality: he's really headstrong and abrasive, especially with new people. However, he's really protective about the people he cares about, but he might actually kill you if you call him out on it.

Biggest Flaw: he has a hell of a temper, but he actually gets maddest when he's really worried and doesn't know how to show it, which often leads to misunderstandings

Likes: K-Pop and anime (but he's super secretive about it and when Bear found out he threatened him into silence), Japanese food (except soba), sleeping, thunderstorms, reading

Dislikes: when Bear calls him a munchkin because he's short (compared to him), most people, kids (except Jonah), cats (he and Lion get into debates all the time)

Hidden Talents: he's actually a really good artist, but he's never had any formal training. He likes to sketch in his free time

Trivia: he doesn't like cats because when he was five his cousin's cat bit him and honestly he's just never moved past it, his favorite color is red (he's more drawn to lighter reds), and he has a massive sweet tooth

**Bear / Henry Johnson**

Age: 23

Birthday: October 31st (Scorpio) [they did celebrate it but Alex was kind of unconscious so it was lowkey in a hospital room]

Height: 6'3" (192cm)

Personality: is lowkey a flirt and is actually really good with girls because he's precious, always worries about everyone and gets kind of neurotic when people are hurt, always funny and happy (unless something's, you know, wrong), generally precious

Biggest Flaw: sometimes when he's worried, he can be really overbearing and pushy

Likes: soda, Halloween, kids, the people he works with at the youth center, watching the tellie, science fiction (he and Elliot used to have Star Trek movie marathons)

Dislikes: when Tiger calls him a tree because he's tall, medication, hospitals, when his unit is hurt, studying, reading, being in big groups of people

Hidden Talents: can cheer anybody up in any situation ever

Trivia: he LOVES that his birthday is on Halloween, it's his favorite holiday; his favorite color is yellow, and he's allergic to walnuts, and kind of a kleptomaniac

**Raven / Elliot Kirigaya / Ell**

Age: 24 (when he passed away)

Birthday: September 10th (Virgo)

Height: 6'0" (182 cm)

Personality: he's generally really nice and comedic, and he gets attached to people easily.

Biggest Flaw: he can get kind of insecure sometimes, and sometimes it translates badly

Likes: basketball, American football, music, fire (he's a lowkey pyromaniac; really liked blowing stuff up in training), hanging out with his friends, reading (he liked audiobooks), exercising

Dislikes: kale (he freaking hated it), watching the tellie, being indoors for too long, shooting (his aim was never great)

Hidden Talents: he played cello really well and he was really good at chess

Trivia: he was a quarter Japanese, but he took his mom's last name because his parents divorced when he was in uni; Tiger and he have been best mates since Year 8; his favorite movie was _Back to the Future_ and he was a generally huge fan of science fiction; (and he didn't hate being called Ell as much as he let on)

**Wolf / James san Luca [that's the name everyone uses for him so I'm going with it]**

Age: 28

Birthday: May 1st (Taurus)

Height: 5'10" (176cm)

Personality: abrasive and loud and generally prick-ish until you get to know him. He's kind of insecure and he can express it badly sometimes, and he likes to be in charge, but he genuinely cares about the well-being of those under him

Biggest Flaw: well, sometimes he's an arse. He's grown up a little, but he still sometimes lets his anger get the better of him

Likes: his unit (even if he doesn't like to admit it), dirt-biking, camping (but not hiking, even though he's really good at it), apple pie, alternative music

Dislikes: heights, narcissists, most people (he and Tiger are actually somewhat alike), loud music, sitting around doing nothing, when people are too neat (he actually gets mad when Snake cleans the flat and he can't find any of his stuff because it's actually where it's supposed to be)

Hidden Talents: he's actually really good at dirt-biking, he was on a team for it in school and won a couple of awards; he's fluent in Russian and Spanish, and is actually really book smart

Trivia: his favorite color is green (even though he swears it's black), he doesn't like being the oldest in his unit, and he went to uni to try for law school, but dropped out to go into the SAS when his cousin was KIA in Iran

**Fox / Ben Daniels**

Age: 24

Birthday: July 12th (Cancer)

Height: 6'0" (182cm)

Personality: he's really supportive, but he also gets kind of mad when people don't take care of themselves, which can be a little off-putting; he's also kind of reckless sometimes, and Wolf gets mad at him a lot. He's a really kind soul who has a hard time putting his feelings into actions, sometimes.

Biggest Flaw: he has a bad habit of doing things without thinking them through

Likes: electronic music, (secretly) K-dramas, instrumental music, running (it helps relax him and clears his head), Alex (is very protective by nature), his unit, vegetables (Eagle likes to tease him and call him a rabbit)

Dislikes: MI6, Alex's job, Alex's secrecy, Alex's entire handling of his situation, Wolf's attitude sometimes (even though he likes Wolf), being the youngest of his unit, the fact that he's still single, fruit (it's a texture thing)

Hidden Talents: he's a really good swimmer and can do a 50yd freestyle in under thirty seconds, but he _hates_ the butterfly stroke

Trivia: He never really cared for Mrs. Jones and he _hates_ Alan Blunt, he really likes dancing and often goes clubbing when his unit is off rotation, and he's a bad drunk (like not _mean_, just he kind of loses all inhibitions) [this will be a problem later ahem]

**Snake / Kyle O'Reilly **

Age: 26

Birthday: December 24th (Capricorn)

Height: 5'10" (177cm)

Personality: He's really quiet and is generally a peacemaker, but he's a genuinely nice guy. He doesn't like conflict and tends to put himself in the middle of things to try to diffuse the tension (which sometimes backfires). He's kind of timid sometimes, but if you piss him off enough, that good old Scottish fighting spirit _will_ smack you in the face. When he drinks too much, he gets really loud and laughs a lot, but he doesn't like getting drunk. He's _super_ moral, but he's good about not pushing it onto other people.

Biggest Flaw: sometimes when he tries to diffuse situations by placing himself in conflicts, he makes it worse and then feels really bad, which makes him want to resolve the situation even _more_, and…yeah. Vicious cycle.

Likes: instrumental music (he and Fox can really vibe sometimes, which really ticks Eagle off), reading, making lists, going to church, his girlfriend, cleaning, organizing things, reading, studying (wants to get his medical degree after he's through with the SAS), reading his Bible

Dislikes: conflict, aggression, loud music (he and Wolf stand as a united front when Eagle has the radio), disloyalty, big crowds, outdoors (much prefers to stay in and read)

Hidden Talents: is surprisingly awesome at Scrabble because of how much he reads

Trivia: kind of a neat freak (he likes to color code things and has a place for everything), he's Roman Catholic, and he's lowkey scared of dogs (had a bad experience as a kid)

**Eagle / Mason Avaria**

Age: 26

Birthday: November 23rd (Sagittarius)

Height: 6'1" (185cm)

Personality: he kind of uses comedy as a coping mechanism, so he's really humorous and comedic literally all the time, and his unit calls him kind of immature because of it. Despite that, he really is a really good soldier, and he's super brave. Also REALLY compassionate and empathetic—when someone _really_ needs to talk, he gets really serious. He also really likes drinking, but he's a chill drunk.

Biggest Flaw: Sometimes his jokes go a little too far, but he always feels really bad about it afterwards and does whatever he can to correct it. He's also kind of self-deprecating sometimes

Likes: animals, nature / outdoors, heavy metal music, his girlfriend, camping, fire (also a lowkey pyromaniac), American TV shows, Scotch (and wine), running (helps clear his head; he and Fox go running a lot)

Dislikes: classical / instrumental music (gets really mad when Snake or Fox is in control of the radio), beer, his height (he doesn't like being the tallest)

Hidden Talents: he's actually completed three marathons and two half-marathons

Trivia: he's high key vegetarian and really owns it, he's a huge animal lover, and he and his girlfriend have been dating for four years (they got together in uni) and he's kind of considering proposing on Christmas (her name is Evie and she's a sweetie), he's Church of Christ

**Jonah Livingston!**

Age: 5 (almost 6!)

Birthday: December 11th (Sagitarius)

Height: 3'6" (106cm)

Personality: adorable and precious and is to be protected at all costs, is genuinely kind and encouraging to everyone (except Cedric bc he sucks [read down])

Likes: Uncle Danny, Uncle Sam, Uncle Henry, Uncle Matthew, football, the Arsenal team, his parents, playing outside, being read to, taking naps…he pretty much likes almost everything, sugar especially

Dislikes: vegetables, the dark, Cedric (the kid in his class who calls him short), girls (cooties, duh) [but he's still nice to them because he's a little gentleman]

Hidden Talents: can hold his breath underwater for forty seconds (is very impressed with himself)

Trivia: he's really good at card games, he wants a dog named Marshmallow, and he wants to be a soldier like his uncles

**Whew! Okay, that was so cute and so much fun. I hope you enjoyed it!**

**I wanted to get this up because I'm not sure when I'll be able to post again. I'm going to try my best, but I have SO much going on this semester, especially because I have no idea still how COVID is going to impact some of my classes and my job, so…ya know. Anxiety, skyrocketing. **

**But I'm going to try to keep working on this story and my other stories, because I really love it and I don't want to let you guys down. Thanks so much for all your love and support and encouragement, and I'll see you soon :)**

**PS Let me know what you thought of these little blurbs! I'll reply to all the Guest reviews next chapter! **


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